The Arrangement
by Atheniandream
Summary: "The Arrangement...is still intact. As far as he knows..." Set Mid-way through Season Five (Spoilers for 5.01 - 5.05 included)
1. Chapter 1

Update: Beta'd as if 21.08.17

It's only taken like 10 or so years to work out how to export files and edit my early fics!

Notes: Set after Season Five. (Or as an AU Mid way into the Season) RATED T/M ish (Would rate it M if it appeared in general posting!)

 _ **For those Following LIFE, it is my next consideration. And if you're dying for a resolution, check out Angles. I wrote it ages ago, but it kind of fits the current situation. A~**_

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

 **The Arrangement 1 / 2**

By Atheniandream

* * *

It's Harvey Specter's forty fourth birthday.

 _The Arrangement_...is still intact.

As far as he knows...

* * *

Harvey Specter is used to waking up alone. It's in his nature, _his way_. In truth, he's a loner. And he's mostly happy with that. It's ingrained in him now after all these years, like his suits, his trademarked stare and surly demeanour. It lives in his ability to take down a room with one clever comment, to fend off his opponents with a well placed threat, and all without anyone ever thinking he so much as batted an eyelid.

He peels one of said eyelids open, the spread of white Egyptian cotton rippling out over the majority of the bed as his eyeline grazes all the way to the white windows that frame a pearly blue sky and the stoic looking New York skyline staring back at him.

 ** _He's Forty Four today_**. Not quite to forty five. He's not quite at _that_ age yet. Part of him is still young, still bouncing with the vigour for the fight, for cases and fighting in court and yet...the other? The other part is weighted and reeling in age, tired from the fight and yearning for something that his heart knows, but his conscience is still too unsure to define.

He turns to sit upright, stretching out his back and hears the cracks and strain of muscles pulling out of their held position as he moves to stand, wandering on autopilot out to the open plan kitchen. He yawns expressively, moving around the counter as he rubs at the back of his head.

 _He wonders if he should have taken the day off. If maybe he's getting too old to avoid pause._

He effortlessly flicks on the coffee machine and decides for a double hit to pick up his addled mind-set. He's had a long few months, juggling work and therapy and righting the ship that was his life. Not to mention finally putting Jack Soloff in his place. That was is worse than Louis. Sure, Louis was a cat-loving ass with a chip on his shoulder, and that was bad enough, but he was sure that Jack Soloff had nine lives. Luckily, he had knocked every single one of them out of the park, reclaiming his position next to Jessica and regained the support of the other Partners.

So much had happened this year; mostly to him, but also to the people around him.

 _With_ the people around him.

He smirks to himself at the obviousness of such an open reflection, as a streak of red flashes in his mind like sun through autumn leaves.

He barely used to reflect. Instead he would seethe. He would often brood. Sometimes he'd displace things. Feelings mostly.

 _Displacement._ He'd learnt that one from Paula. One seemingly vital discovery amongst the many others that he had realised he'd buried long ago.

He looks into the bathroom mirror, watching his reflection. The two moles above his left eye, one of which seems to be getting bigger than the other. The lines that have graduated from around his dark eyes to his forehead.

He blames the lines on _her_. Exclusively.

He's realised that now, after a time. _She_ is the one thing that makes him completely lose his shit.

And the only one that manages to put him back together.

He smirks a little, at the reminder of this important day above the other ones.

This year. This year...he's getting something that...he has to admit, he has wanted for...a long while.

And before the long while he had wanted it for even longer.

* * *

His face settles into a calm smile as he looks into the long mirror in the walk-in wardrobe, checking his tie and cuffs, before examining the seams of his jacket.

She's bound to scrutinise him ten times more on this one day, so he makes sure that she has nothing to immediately pick at.

After all... _he wants her to work for it_. Even if - and he knows it to be fact - that she'll think that she has the upper hand today.

 _ **But he can't help it...he loves it when she sweats it out a little.**_

It's become a game now. An almost attempt at torture to abate the fervent urges that come on like a steadily growing series of swells. He'd never realised before that her absence could make him feel like he was completely empty; that he didn't work without her, and that the reality of such a thing ran so far beyond work and straight into his central being. He was at odds with himself without her almost constant presence, and it humbled him in a way that not even a Specter smile could quash.

He could do his job, of course. But only half as well without the other half of him.

And that's what she was. This complicated, intrinsically connected other half.

And now she was more than just his ex-secretary. She was his secretary _again_ , after almost five months absence and one month in. Gretchen had agreed to move to Louis, the three of them accepting that as perfect as she was for Harvey, she'd be better suited keeping Louis under control. Harvey had been sad to lose to her, in truth. He'd grown a tiny little soft spot for the balsy older woman. She was full of sense and guile and he had needed her uncomplicated support. He had unofficially bumped up her salary there and then, all without Louis's blessing.

The initial change back hadn't been easy though. Donna's momentous return to his desk had brought with it another very poignant layer. And he'd put her in a box in his head for so long, filed under 'just my secretary', that even when the tables truly turned in his mind, it took a while for him to see her as she really was.

 _This undeniably beautiful woman,_

He that was _very much_ in love with.

But who was _not_ his usual type.

It had plagued him at first. It didn't correlate. This contradiction of how he saw her.

Up until then he had been chasing petite little brunettes around the place and put her on a pedestal so high for so long, that he'd not even had a chance to really look at her since _the other time_. And back then she was just something that at the time, he had to have. And then he had claimed it and...things just...didn't go that way.

After that he'd locked everything into that little box for ten years, every compartment of 'them' and 'her' and the little moment that made a mark, was tucked away and filed under 'do not recount under any circumstances, even to your shrink'.

Of course, that was until her leaving had broken the hinges of said box like she was a little boy with heavy pockets, assaulting a gumball machine. The wake of such a thing caused every single feeling, thought and repressed situation to flood back into his life with vigour.

Well, that and _The Dream_...

Their reunion had started with a kiss. And then a slap. And then...that and the other thing.

For exactly twelve hours he felt like the King of World. Until like some Greek Goddess she had quashed his plans under her heel and righted the ship with a firm finish and a proposal.

And now...they were in _this_ situation.

They were to work together again.

She was….not allowed to date her ex - the important one - not ever. Otherwise he would sue her, for _Abandonment and the breaking of their verbal agreement_.

And he wasn't allowed to see or even council Esther Litt. (And to be honest, given their strangely electric connection, he assumed that it would be for the best) And in return of that consideration, he was allowed to sleep around the general Manhattan community as long as it didn't turn into anything...serious.

 _H_ _er too._

And, in exactly five years time... **he** \- as she had put it _would..._ _ **'Put a ring on it'**_.

 _ **A big one.**_

And for the kind of man he used to be,

It was an ironclad deal.

Except he wasn't the man he used to be.

Now he had... _has_ needs. More importantly, a new need for her, now.

And so she had offered an... _Arrangement,_ of sorts.

Two days a year, Donna Roberta Paulsen had agreed to...

Re-enact the _Original_ _Can Opener_ _Ritual_.

And, today, was one of those days.

As he takes one last look in the mirror to check that everything is in place, watching with that knowing calm setting across his face, he decides there and then…

That _**Today**_ , is going to be a fucking great day.

* * *

 _I just can't get you out of my head_

 _Boy your loving is all I think about_

 _I just can't get you out of my head_

 _Boy it's more than I dare to think about_

 _Every night_

 _Every day_

 _Just to be there in your arms_

 _Won't you stay_

 _Won't you lay_

 _Stay forever and ever and ever and ever_

'Can't get Blue Monday Outta my Head' - By Kylie/Blue Monday

* * *

He realises that he's actually a little anxious, if not impatient to see her as he stalks the halls of his firm with a kind of swagger fit for Dean Martin himself. He hangs a left to his office, his jaw hardening into an expectant pout.

 _She's not at her desk_ , he notes, pausing, as a confused frown settles above his wider eyes. His neck cranes slightly, looking right into his office with a humbling groan.

 _He should have known._

 _Old habits die hard and this has always been her MO..._

He smirks unnaturally then at the display; her, sat at his desk, clad in a royal blue wrap around dress that gathers against the bustline in a way that highlights his motive somewhere deep down in his gut, as her vibrant hair drips down against the seat's backrest. His eyes linger to her legs, which he supposes are silky soft to the touch as they stretch out on his desk, casually crossed at the ankle to reveal her strappy silver Manolos.

Not her usual nude, he notes.

But he wagers that...this is not a usual day.

The look she's wearing is bordering on predatory, he thinks, with her mouth slightly open and twisted with a feline sensibility. It reminds him of the dream, stirring something unusual in his gut as he tries not to linger on the less savoury part of it that he blocks far out of memory. His cheekbones harden to give him the perfect cover to exhale at the sheer sight of her, as his hands slide into his pockets. All of his gestures bely that urge that keeps making itself known.

He's frustratingly linear, he thinks. Especially in her presence.

All at once, he feels fifteen again.

The pointed look in her eyes, that twinkle of interest as she stares at him with a suggestiveness warms him all the way to his toes, as he swaggers towards her, a smirk sharpening his features all the more. His chin lifts with purpose, waiting for her to speak first.

"Morning, Harvey." She says sweetly, her legs sliding off of his desk as she pushes to a stand in one fluid motion.

"Morning...Donna." He replies evenly, feeling the need to clear his throat as he walks around to the other side of his desk. He feels her head turn slightly as he slides past her, careful not to graze a hand across any part of her. He feels her eyes on him and all at once he feels like he's losing against whatever silent play she set has in motion. His hands then fiddle idly with the papers she has probably left for him mere moments before. When the room washes with silence, his all too quickly darkened eyes flick up to see her stood silently on the opposite side of his desk then, something else besides their two person game playing in the periphery of her mind.

That's how _they_ , or at least, _he_ , has gotten through the last month.

Games. _That and an incredibly detailed scoring system._

"So...aren't you going to wish me a Happy Birthday?" He enquires playfully.

She turns animated in a second. He nearly laughs. "Hmmm, well," She says, pursing her lips as she looks to his vinyl collection, her hip dropping on one side. "The thing is that...I can't wish you a Happy Birthday, if I don't have a present to give you." she notes.

He softens then, rolling his eyes at her. "You don't have to get me a gift, Donna." He tells her. "You being here is... _gift enough_." He admits, his eyebrows denting with the vomit-worthy sincerity free-flowing out of him. His face softens, before he looks back at his paperwork for a much-needed distraction.

"Oh, _I_ _ **have**_ _a gift_." She counters, her voice colourful, turning his attention straight back to her again.

He raises an eyebrow to that. _She's impossible._ And he struggles not to be completely overtaken with her.

"But you're not getting it...just yet." She tells him, grinning before she spins on her heel, settling at her desk without looking back at him.

It takes everything imaginable to reign himself in for the four seconds it takes Mike Ross to walk through the door and save him from following his secretary, ne, the woman he loves **_to her desk_ ** and fucking her right there in her... _cubicle_.

 ** _Because, of course it's been a fantasy for a month now so why not indulge the idea..._**

He swallows the lump in his throat, glaring at the vibrant redhead who finally arches one polished eyebrow at him.

"Good Morning, Boss." Mike chimes, marching in with a fanning of folders in one hand, and an 'all business' look about him.

Not to mention that horrific hair has made an appearance once more.

But he's so distracted he doesn't notice until Mike unfolds the other hand from behind him, revealing two tickets, that he all but thrusts into his face.

"Happy Birthday." Mike says, pushing the tickets further towards him.

Harvey frowns immediately, glancing towards Donna, who's all of a sudden not at her desk where he expects to see an expression of sorts. His eyes flick up after reading the tickets, looking up at the excited looking man-child of an Associate staring back at him.

"Nicks tickets?" Harvey enquires, a darkened glare on his face.

"They're the real Mccoy. Front row. _Tonight_. Acquired by myself, and...Jay Z will actually be there this time. _ **Because I called him**_.Twice. But...Beyonce is not free." He states, the latter part of his reply causing his face to fall slightly.

Harvey sighs, noticing Donna has now returned to her desk, but is now deliberately avoiding his eyeline.

"I'm busy...tonight." Harvey states, clearing his throat, before looking up at his counterpart. "Raincheck?" He asks, his eyes flicking to a busy-looking Donna.

Mike frowns then indicating to the door. "But Donna said you were free tonight?" He enquires, looking between the two of them, his expression completely innocent, which riles Harvey all the more.

"Of course she did." Harvey mutters under his breath, pursing his lips for a moment, before shrugging. "Sure. Why not." He says, his face softening to his Associate.

 _He can't blame the kid._

His annoyance is firmly set on the deceitful redheaded devil-woman outside his office.

He plans to serve her with papers at 8am tomorrow morning.

 ** _Sharp._**

* * *

The day moves on like that. And he doesn't mention it.

He nearly does, the impulse riding as she sits there, supposedly immersed in her duties. He stands up from his desk, deciding not to call her into his office, and starts to walk towards the doorway, until Jessica corners him, demanding updates on his workload. He doubles back to his desk, sitting down again.

When his eyes flick up to the desk outside, again, there is no one occupying it.

"Harvey. I need an update on the Thompson v. Hampton case."

"Jessica. I am dick deep in paperwork right now. How's that for an update?" He offers, his voice on a knife edge of indignation.

"Wow." Jessica scoffs. "Someone is a little...uptight today." See observes with a wicked smile.

His eyes narrow slowly.

 _Does she know about the Arrangement?_ , he wonders, huffing then when she arches an eyebrow at his silence.

"Couldn't have anything to do with it being your birthday, could it?" She enquires, turning to the empty desk in front of his office.

"Which reminds me...where's my present?" He replies grumpily, ignoring the insinuation.

"Something tells me that there's nothing I could give you that would make your day." She tells him with a smile.

"Did Donna tell you?" He fires then, his eyes alert at the possibility.

 _Donna isn't a gossip._

But Jessica was never fully let in on what happened between them. She could have cornered Donna and demanded for her to divulge the details.

"Tell me what?" She blinks evenly.

For a second he's at odds with the notion that she has no idea what he is talking about, as he examines her confused frown and voluptuous pout for obvious flaws.

"Nothing." He grumbles, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Boy, you need to get laid..." She remarks, swaggering as she spins on a heel.

"Is that an offer?" He calls to her retreating form.

"Happy Birthday, Harvey." She throws over her shoulder with a deliberate smirk.

"I expect a gift, you know." He calls after her, grumbling when she ignores his words.

* * *

When the end of the day nears, Harvey's mood has picked up.

One call from his Brother, two cases officially put to bed, and hopefully a very entertaining evening planned.

Until he remembers about the Nicks.

His mood drops instantly when he receives a message from Donna, saying:

 ** _Had to skip out. All files prepped for tomorrow on my desk._**

 ** _Enjoy the Nicks. D xx_**

He grumbles under his breath, shoving his phone into his pocket.

It's then that he notices Mike round the corner.

"Hey...you ready to go?" Mike asks casually, his hands sliding into his pockets.

 _He decides then, that this is probably as good as his Birthday is going to get._

"Sure." He shrugs, walking ahead of his counterpart.

* * *

 _ **Over an hour into the game, the Nicks were up by three points and yet Harvey was still agitated.**_

He feels Mike lean in to gain his attention over the gap of a seat.

"You're awfully quiet, sat there. Being quiet." Mike observes, narrowing his eyes at his Partner.

He squints dangerously at the younger man, observing him. "Well, you talk for the two of us, so I thought I'd save Jay-Z the trouble of having to fight the sound of my voice as well as yours."

"I was impassioned." Mike defends, his voice etching up a notch. "It was a debate!"

"Sure." Harvey gives him a dry, unconvinced look. "Jay-Z came all the way down here to fight over the changing legislation of Publishing law instead of watching the pinnacle game of the season."

"It's an important topic. He's a businessman, you know."

"You scared him away." He smirked then, his eyes rolling deliberately to the empty seat between them. "He's been gone for like...twenty-two minutes." Harvey observes, looking to his watch.

"He's probably calling his wife." Mike shrugs, the gussy about him as he deflects any doubt out onto the court.

"I doubt somehow that he's as whipped as you are." Harvey observes pointedly.

"I'll have you know that Rachel and I...have an even relationship."

"You want a bet?" Harvey Counters. Rachel always held the power in their relationship. Which always fascinated him because she always seemed so docile. "I can call her now if you'd like?" He offers, enjoying his Associate in the corner.

"Hey, this conversation didn't start about me. It started about you." Mike deflects. "So...what's going on?"

He straightens then, looking out onto the field. "Nothing." He shrugs, avoiding his eye line.

"Harvey? Come on...It's Mike...you have all my secrets."

His friend was right.

He _had_ always had his back.

Albeit with a direct line to Rachel...

"Promise not to tell Rachel?" He finds himself asking.

" _You want me to lie to my Fiancee_?" Mike's eyes widen at the idea of such a thing.

"No. I want you to promise me you won't tell Rachel. Who _will absolutely_ tell…" He sighs with the inevitability at having to tell him. "...Donna. If she finds out."

Mike's eyebrows raise at that.

Potentially there are now three other people besides he and Donna who now know about the... _Arrangement_.

 _He can't ever keep a damn thing..._

"Okay. I...promise." Mike answers finally.

There is the finest amount of doubt in his words, but Harvey is too tired to even play against it by this point.

"Before Donna came back to work for me...we discussed...an... _Arrangement_ , of sorts."

"Does this have to do with her sleeping with you on your Birthday?"

"God dammit!" Harvey says under his breath.

"Okay...this makes sense...you're with _me_...whereas you'd rather be...in her," Mike quips, earning a sneer from his friend.

" **When did Rachel tell you**?" Harvey fires at him.

"I don't know. Like a month ago?" Mike shrugs, picking up his beer.

Harvey shakes his head then, mostly to loosen the pounding sense of dread.

 _This is embarrassing to the enth degree._

"So..if you knew. Why'd you push it this morning?" Harvey asks then.

It seems idiotic that, as a friend, Mike would even dream of cock-blocking him on this rather important occasion.

"I don't know! I guessed that you'd...be doing something after? Or already had?" He reasons.

It's a sound reasoning. As much as it riles him to admit it...

"Way to have my back." He jibes.

"How am I supposed to know that you didn't wind up having 'Happy Birthday Morning Sex'?" Mike defends, his voice peeling.

"That what Rachel give you?" He offers, unamused.

Mike pouts then, overtaken by the recent memory. "She is _so_ bendy...I am so lucky."

He waits for the longer than appropriate moment for Mike to finish his replay.

"But, back to you," His younger counterpart offers. "So, you _haven't yet_...I gather?"

"We did...like a month ago." Harvey answers. "But today? No..." He answers glumly.

"So. Why don't you just call her?" Mike offers, picking up his beer.

 _It's like this kid is brand new, somedays…_

"Where did you think I was at half time?" Harvey gawps.

"I don't know, Bathroom? You're getting old…you know...bladder wise." He quips.

"Funny." Harvey humours him with a glare.

"So call her now." Mike offers then, gesturing to the man's pocket.

"You know what. I just might…" He reasons then, standing up. "You want another?" He asks, inferring the beer in Mike's hand.

"Sure. Why not." Mike shrugs, downing the rest of the watery tasting liquid.

* * *

 _ **Ten Minutes Later.**_

Harvey curses under his breath.

 _She still isn't answering her damn phone._

Three times he's called her.

 **Three times**...and nothing.

He'd even left a voicemail earlier, reigning in all the concentration he had not to bark down the phone.

It's degrading. This level he'd stoopt to...because of her.

He abates the urge to drop his cellphone into his freshly purchased beer.

* * *

Mike had frowned at him when he'd offered to get a cab alone. But it had been the little flicker of a smile with his even reply that had proved to Harvey that Mike was more in the loop than he let on.

He had muttered the address to the cab driver, the irrational frustration building in him with every mile.

It was now eleven o'clock as he stands in front of his Assistant's building.

 ** _He is horny, tired and aggravated, to say the least._**

As he strides over to the buzzer, pressing it hard, it vibrates against his finger.

He waits for a moment that is longer than his patience can take at this point.

Nothing.

He slumps, his eyes closing as he curses and phishes his phone out of his pocket, pressing the recent number on his call log, deliberately ignoring the (7) next to her name.

Again, nothing. Nothing accept her chirpy ' _This is Donna. I'm busy. Leave a message_.' tone ringing down his ear. Her familiar if not slightly sarcastic sounding voice only aggravates him further, as he assaults the buzzer once more, a flare of anger spiking out of him at the fact that it's past the hour to be let into her building via the tradesman's entrance, as he presses the buzzer several times just for good measure to check it either hasn't broken, or now will be.

He remembers then, the amount of times he ended up at her door unannounced during their poignant split and the fury that it encouraged out of her. The remembrance of such a thing lessens his annoyance just a fraction as he stalks towards the sidewalk then to hail a cab.

 _He's going home to get drunk, seethe and then masterbate an inappropriate amount of times._

 **This is officially the worst birthday in the history of….ever.**

* * *

 _Knew you'd be here tonight_

 _So I put my best dress on_

 _Boy I was so right_

 _Our eyes connected_

 _Now nothing's how it used to be_

 _No second guesses_

 _Track in on this feeling_

 _Pull focus close up you and me_

 _Nobody's leaving_

 _Got me affected_

 _Spun me 180 degrees_

 _It's so electric_

 _Slow down and dance with me_

 _Yeah, slow_

 _Skip a beat and move with my body_

 _Yeah, slow_

 _Come on and dance with me_

 _Yeah, slow_

 _Skip a beat and move with my body_

 _Yeah, slow_

'Slow' By Kylie

* * *

When he finally makes it home, his key sliding into the lock of his shiny white front door, he lets out a muddy sigh of relief.

 _Today has not gone at all like he had planned it to._

The anger and frustration has almost emptied out of him like an adrenaline rush. He realises that he's getting old when he can't even hold on to a grudge for more than a a full work-day.

 _It's been exhausting to even keep it up this long_ , he thinks, as he hangs up his coat.

 _Since when did become one of those people who had to clamber over what he wanted the most?_

 _Since when did what he want, become so god damned defined?_

Since when…

 _ **Did he leave a lamp on?**_

He stops mid-way down the hall, startled by the lamplight flooding in a cone shape across the ceiling. He blinks, his eyes gliding across the shoulders of a woman, one that he could identify even through a crowd of seemingly similar redheads, her hair rippling down one side she sits upright on his couch, with her legs crossed underneath a skin tight wash of glittering midnight blue coloured fabric. He inhales in a wave, noticing how the material frames her body, sheer and tantalizing across her bare shoulders as the only part of her bare body that the dress allows him to see.

She pouts, her lips glossy and her chin lifting as he starts to walk towards her, his mouth falling into a subtly relieved smirk as she moves to stand.

He gives her a look that says everything and anything he needs to about the past fifteen hours of complete torture.

 _He's been excited, confused, annoyed, irritated, angry, and exhausted in one very secluded birthday._

And he knows, without a doubt, that she's been _deliberate_ in her assault.

He steps towards her to close the couple of feet between them, just close enough to chip away at her veil of held confidence.

She's always been a confident woman, but he knows how to get under skin in more ways that one, now.

"You orchestrated this _entire day_ ….didn't you?" He supposes, glaring at her with a kind of entertainment at her presence.

"You're only _just_ realising that?" She offers, given him a piteous look.

He shakes his head, glaring at her. "You've been driving me insane." He tells her.

"If you didn't have to work for it...it wouldn't be the kind of present that we both know you want it to be." She tells him. "Am I right?"

His lips press together as he looks at her. She _is_ right. Frustratingly so. "And the dress is…?" He indicates, pointing his finger vaguely at her stood there, covered head to toe with stretchy looking, _almost_ see-through fabric.

She shrugs one shoulder, that cat like look she gave him this morning lighting her features once more. "It's not a birthday present if you don't get to... _unwrap it_." She tells him, smiling slightly when she notices him sway intuitively towards her.

" **Hmmm** ," He exhales then. " **I hoped you'd say that** ," He breathes, taking that last half a step towards her. He reigns in the impulse to pick her up and carry her to his bed as he looks into her eyes, their coal rimmed frames fluttering in way that makes his groin stir.

Her hand catches his chest before his lips can barely claim hers. She pushes gently against him, until there is about six inches between their two faces. A frown he's been wearing as the theme of the day slides back onto his face, despite the warmth emanating from her hand.

"You don't get to kiss me..." She tells him.

He groans tiredly at her restriction.

"... _.yet_ …" She clarifies, cutting off the impulse.

He frowns for a moment, before smiling crookedly in understanding, and gradually straightens with a regained confidence.

"Turn around." He commands, his voice dark.

Her eyes widen with an impressed smirk, before shrugging as she turns slowly on the spot.

He inhales then, readying himself for the fact that she's fully enabling him to initiate this as long as it meets her terms to the letter.

 _She's always been tough but fair when it comes to them..._

It's then that he's certain. She knows him in every way, because actually he needs this. He's not been longing for it, _he's been planning it_. Every meticulous detail according to their past, present and future.

With her back turned he pouts for a moment in thought, before his hand reaches out intuitively, with a flattening of his palm that he raises until his index finger presses lightly against the top of her back. He watches her shoulders flex ever so slightly from the touch, as he runs his finger down her spine. He feels her inhale, smirking to himself before taking a small step towards her, his hand returning to the top of the dress, but this time taking the tiny zip in his hand. He runs the zip painstakingly down her back, inch by inch, feeling his breath catch at the sight of her freckles and soft skin even in the deliberately concealing lighting concept. He passes scandalous red lace, and more freckles, until he meets red lace again, his jaw twitching with excitement as her dress unwraps her on each side. Her head turns then, flattening against her right shoulder as her eyes search for him in her periphery, a secret smirk for him as she waits for his next move.

"Eyes forward." He commands then, smirking at the sound of her mirth ridden chuckle as she does as is told.

He smiles to himself, kind of goofily, before coughing slightly to regain his composure.

"You enjoying yourself there?" He hears her ask.

"Oh... _ **much**_." He replies casually, before a hand with a mind of it's own slides across her right hip, before settling on her stomach. He takes a step towards her, until he's flush against her, his lips pressing against the ridge at the base of her neck, his teeth gently grazing her skin before his lips close in a kiss. He hears her hum slightly, her neck folding into him, and suddenly all wants to do is kiss her on the mouth and fuck her up against the see-through walls of his condo for everybody to see.

He checks himself again. _He has to do this her way otherwise she'll likely leave him high and dry._

His hand rises to flatten against the bottom of her ribs, his other hand peeling the sheer midnight blue fabric away from her left collarbone to be replaced by a painstakingly slow trail of kisses that gravitate towards the tip of her shoulder, nipping the flesh there. She moans then, and suddenly he's aware of being so very hard against her. He smiles when her left hand and covered wrist appears on her right shoulder, sliding the fabric down to match the other side.

He frowns, beside the secret smirk at her action. " **Hey**." He chides. " **No helping**." He commands, before his right hands gravitates around to her back, continuing to unfold her out of her dress until it's long sleeves settle at her pointy elbows, his arms sliding around to cradle them as he presses against her, his obvious reaction to her making itself apparent.

He feels her face pull into a smile as his face settles in the crook of her neck.

"So...can I assume that you.. _.like_...your birthday present?" She enquires lightly. He can feel her losing her practised cool against him.

"I think so," He plays at indifference then, his tone still slightly suggestive, before turning to plant a kiss behind her ear. "Of course, I'm going to have to...play with it...for a.. _.little longer_ ," He tells her, his voice dripping in double edged meaning. "You know.. _.just to be sure_." He assures her, looking to her, before pushing her hair aside.

"Of course," She agrees casually, leaning slightly into him.

His fingers slide to grasp her waist as she frees her hands so he can slide the rest of the dress off her hips. He smirks, the sight of matching red french panties to finish off the look.

He decides there and then. _She is a temptress and never to be trusted with anything other than this work and his heart._ His future health, he decides, is firmly at risk if she's going to dress like this just for him.

He spins her on the spot in one fluid motion, which disarms her, because A) He's always been able to lead a lady, in a dance or anything else for that matter and B) She's got two left feet and boney knees, both of which entertains him to no end, despite her confidence in life and high heels.

He chuckles to himself, his hands clamping down on her hips to steady her, before finally meeting her eye. For the first time in a very long time he feels like he's lost in her, watching her smile at him in that way that he knows means that she absolutely _does_ love him. He leans eagerly forward to kiss her, before she stops him with a finger against his lips. He reigns in the repeat annoyance flaring up in him once more. He purses his lips when her finger drops.

"Donna?" He questions, his eyebrows raising and head tilting ever so slightly with a silent question.

"Fine. Kiss me...if you want to ruin it." She shrugs defiantly, laying the bait.

He scowls then, narrowing his eyes at her words. Once again, he reigns in his uncomfortable annoyance.

She smirks in victory, her hands sliding over his already erect nipples and pressing into the panels of his chest, causing him to exhale any irritation that still muddles against his winning desire for her. Her nimble fingers glide to the top of his collar, opened earlier in the evening from the relaxed position the loosened knot of his tie had pushed it into. Her fingers wrap around his tie then, expertly undoing the lazy windsor that it has become. His eyebrows raise when she pulls it down one side of his neck, before balling it in her fist, and throwing it over his head to land in the hallway.

He gives her an admonishing look, his head tilting slightly to question her devilish smirk, as her hands return to his collar, her fingers sliding underneath it before carefully moving to the fourth button, undoing each one on his shirt with a pin sharp acuity. He watches, this woman in her provocative negligee, pouting slightly in concentration as she slowly rids him of his garments. He finds himself fascinated by her face, watching her undo the last button only to run her hands against his stomach, higher past his quickly tensing abs and over the panels of his chest until they slide down his arms, her hands tracing the contours of his arms and the firm muscles that have developed from years of boxing.

She frowns for a moment when her arms reach the cuffs, before he watches her smile to herself, her left hand sliding against the outside of his right pocket. Her eyes flick to his suggestively, as he feels her hand tap up into his pocket, the jingle jangle of metal cufflinks jumping about in the lining.

She smiles, before her hands pull on either sleeve, bringing them less than an inch apart. She's suddenly so close that his vision blurs, as his tongue darts to his bottom lip, his nose filled with her signature perfume, a mix of grapefruit and cranberry and vanilla. he's about to say something until she all but yanks his shirt off his shoulders, flicking one wrist so that it ends up strewn across the floor.

 _A map for the rest_ , he thinks to himself, looking to her, the feeling of her breath against his face.

It flashes in his mind, then.

The question.

 _Why hasn't he_ …

He closes the gap before his subconscious can even answer, a hand slides up to her face and his head angles to quickly press a kiss against her lips, the moment he can steal for himself before she can react. She tastes like caramel and the faint tinge of her favourite wine, he realises, as his top lip gently nudges her mouth open for him a second time. She smells and tastes like inevitable relaxation. She masks her reaction in a second worth of restraint until his hand falls to join the other in pressing her against him enough to grind into her inner thigh. Suddenly and reactively her hands are angling his head so that she can kiss him fully then, her tongue sliding against his with heated breath and a heaviness. She nips at his bottom lip, tugging on it just enough to elicit a moan deep in his throat.

He realises then, in the addled sex-haze and her completely overwhelming his senses, that the restraint is as much for her as it is for him, and that if either of them had initiated a kiss at the beginning, then the entire thing would have been over and done with in at least seven all too perfect minutes.

But this was about more than just claiming seven minutes. It had to mean more because of it's complete lack of regularity.

This was a second...or...a third off.

A...three in a kind moment, and celebration of the initial union itself.

 _She would tell him later that it was a' revisiting'._

It only dawns on him, disconnecting him from his current self that this is going to be nothing like it had been the first time. Or the second.

Donna is it for him.

For better or worse...he can't escape or replace the fact any longer. Strange thing is he doesn't want to either. He's too tired to fight against it now that they're finally in the same place.

He moans, low against her mouth at the thought still coursing through him as his fingernails graze gently up the prominent ridges of her ribs. He feels her inhale under his unpractised - at least on her - touch; her hands playing with his hairline as his lips slide to her jaw, following freckles to the side of her neck and sucking hard against the soft flesh there.

She whimpers, stiffening for a moment to look into his eyes, alarm and the bare taint of a warning there as their hands still in their places.

"Harvey. You can't leave a mark." She warns.

Panics floods him and leaves his body in a huff, his brows fusing together in reply as his hands finally drop.

"Donna." He tells her, his trademark tone when using her name. "If this is all I'm gonna get right now, then I am sure as hell gonna leave something for you to remember it by." He tells her somewhat sternly.

Her eyes narrow, questioning him for a moment until she seems to decide something that speaks of a finality in her head, and a smirk slowly appears in its place. He's taken off guard when her finger slides around the loop of his trousers and she turns pulling him to follow her as she returns them to the couch. She let's go, pushing his chest lightly for him to sit down. He stifles the feeling of his pants tightening with the tension of his arousal, as his eyebrow quivers, questioning her stood above him.

She bends down then, her hand sliding to his chin to guide his lips towards her, planting a firm if not oddly promise laden kiss, before she kneels in front of him. He smirks lazily, allowing her to press his legs apart so that she can settle between them. His eyes dart briefly to their reflection in the glass that fights against the view of the opposing skyline. His eyes don't meet much past the image of her. She is phoenix like and seemingly feather light, balancing on her pointy knees below him. He looks back to her, trying to reign in an arrogant presumption forming in his head.

"Now... I know that this is deviating mildly from the..." She clears her throat deliberately. "Usual itinerary." She points out, looking up at him with suddenly calculating eyes.

"It is, But...I'm okay with that." He tells her, his words skipping with a gulp when her hands slide down with a deliberate press, coasting from his knees all the way along his inner thighs and stopping a mere inch from his still solid erection.

He's 100 percent sure that he's going to be a complete mess after this, he thinks. He can barely contain the impulse to pull her on top of him when she leans forward seductively and pulls at his belt buckle, his eyes flicking down to see that very small and solitary freckle on the right hand side of her cleavage that he's grown accustomed to seeing. His jaw sharpens, eyes focusing when she flicks open the top button of his pants and unzips them, his adequate bulge revealing itself in a way that causes a spread of a smile to grow widely on her face.

"Oh...I've missed you." She breathes, smirking as she tugs his pants down to the bottom of his thighs.

"Donna," He chides, the rarest of blushes appearing on his already beer-tinged face. She always has had the unique habit of embarrassing him when his guards are the lowest.

"Sorry," She smiles sheepishly, entertained by his sudden bout of self consciousness, as his trousers pool around his calves.

He's like that with her now. Now that the walls are mostly down and their cards were laid out firmly on the table that is their relationship, he now finds himself tender and easily bruised around her. So funny that he be the first one to change in regards to them. Work is mostly how it was. But now and again their are looks, the brushing of hands and accidental touches that last much longer. Silent messages transmitted between them, and feelings not so held back as they once were.

She leans back to undo his shoes, allowing him to toe them off before she gently peels his socks off of him one by one.

"Getting domestic, are we?" He queries, containing a smirk.

She arches an eyebrow. "You wish." She throws at him, finally pulling his pants off - with his assistance - so that she can throw them into the room along with his other things.

He's always thought that she would be painstaking with her undressing of him. Maybe the times were changing. _Or Maybe she was just as desperate to cut corners as he was._

He leans his head back with an excruciating sigh, when he feels her warm hand slide into his boxers and take hold of him. He bites his lip, his eyes flicking to her ripple of burnt orange hair as he feels her lips on him, expertly claiming an advantage over him that he hopes won't last for long.

He feels her tongue swirl in a figure of eight, and then in a line and he wonders if he'll ever reach that age or whether she truly will be the death of him on his fort-fourth birthday. Her breath catches and it immediately excites him. He tries to hold in the urge for his hips to buck against her. _Never the gentlemanly thing to do, in any scenario where a woman has her hand around you._

The second time with them had been all urges and fighting and claiming one another in a fury, _a battle_. This isn't one of those times. But the idea that she could enjoy this as much as he clearly was only turned him on all the more.

"Fuck, Donna." He breathes with a sensitivity, his right arm reaching out to grasp along the back of the couch. His thumb presses against the worn black leather of the backrest when her tongue slides up the entire of his shaft in one languid stroke. He can't make out her expression for the vivid curtain of rippling hair that hangs between them, but he can see by the way her back relaxes that she's clearly getting into it. He remembers their recent conversation, and her admitting that this specific act turned her on. They both realised at that point that they'd always be fighting to pleasure the other first... _and god_ , _does he want to skip to the part where that becomes a permanent feature of his life..._

For now, he will have to be satisfied with what he can get, as he feels his breath start to come in steadily crashing waves, colliding with the electric blue warmth spreading over his groin and up to tighten his abs as his heart beat thumps clear out of his chest.

When he comes it is rush, his face tenses with the pressure of release as he moans finally, the urge to scratch his fingernails down the back of the sofa holding him in place. A second flood comes then, as he reacts to the fact that her lips stay on him throughout, all the tension in the past four weeks - backed up still by twelve long years - at having her kept so far from him has him in pieces right in front of her knelt form.

He blinks twice, noticing that in a moment of ecstasy he's reached out for her and laced his fingers through one side of her hair, because now she's staring up at him, her lips glossy and her face flushed with a look of amusement about him at his sudden action.

Again that look in the dream flashes through his mind.

That half smirk.

The messy hair.

Bare shoulders and an unbridled acceptance of them.

 _It appears that the good part of the dream wasn't so removed from reality after all._

"Come here," He breathes, his hand still lost in her auburn curls and his breath still struggling to level. She arches an eyebrow, seeming to obey him in this Haley's comet of a moment as she leans back, before shuffling on her knees until her hips rest against his still slightly reactive inner thighs. His hand lowers to cup her head, reaching forward to slide his lips over hers. He's never done it before. _Kissed a woman after they've been down on him_. For all his adventurousness and his still solid reputation for being a bachelor and ladies man, he is almost devoid of experience as far as real intimacy is concerned. And _it is_ intimate, tasting himself all over her, that saltiness seeming strangely sweet on her tongue.

"I take it you're...spent?" She breathes, her fingernails delicately tracing his jawline before they fold over his shoulders. He's occupied instantly by how close she is, his eyes flicking to each of hers with a boyish interest at her fresh looking face.

"Oh," He says, a forced coyness about him. "Give me five, and I'll be back on form." He promises, kissing her again, his hands lace around her waist to bring him a strange but much needed closeness.

She gives him a look, chuckling to herself as she looks down at his chest. "And by five you mean fifteen right?" She enquires.

"You're not _that_ good." He smirks, trying to disarm her. It would have worked if he hadn't looked so damn exhausted.

She laughs then, and he finds himself smiling at the fact, his face following hers as she fidgets in his arms. "Am I not?" She questions, sighing deliberately "Oh well then...maybe you should just go find someone else to suck your dick on your birthday." She offers devilishly.

"Oh, now. Let's not be hasty. I l _ove_ mediocre." He jokes, playing with her, as she pretends to move out of his arms.

"You're going to get a firm knee in the balls if you're not careful." She warns on the knife edge.

"Come here, you tempestuous woman." He says, his hands flattening against the lace of her back to bring her closer to him. She smiles, her hands folding back over his and removing them, as she stands, flicking off her heels and sitting next to him as he adjusts his boxers, giving himself some kind of modesty whilst trying to regain his composure.

"I'm still waiting for my compliment." She says, stubbornly folding her arms.

"Is an orgasm and a smile not compliment enough for you?" He counters, his hands starting to wander across her form.

"Well...when you put it like that," She says then, smiling quietly into his side.

"I really want to fuck you right now." He breathes. "Like...right now. For the record." Her assures her.

"You're absolutely exhausted, aren't you?" She assumes, her voice colourful.

"It's been a very stressful day." He defends tiredly, causing her to find his eyes for the clarification. He huffs at first, before relinquishing control of his innermost insecurities. "I thought you'd forgotten." He admits then.

"About _The Arrangement_?" She scoffs, thoroughly entertained by the idea. "You underestimate me, Sir."

He is not amused. "Well...when you didn't mention it _all day_. And then made me go out with Mike. I could have brought another woman back here, you know." He warns.

"Maybe. But you wouldn't." She tells him, countering the pinch worth of challenge in his gaze. "And Mike is your best friend. Why wouldn't you go out with your BFF on your birthday?"

"I don't know. Maybe because a month ago I planned to throughly fuck a beautiful woman instead?" He replies in a drawl.

"It's all about balance." She tells him then, a notable blush on her face.

He huffs again. She's right of course. _In principle._

"If you don't give me the heads up next time, consider the position otherwise filled." He warns grumpily.

"Is that a threat, Mr Specter?" She offers, arching an eyebrow.

"Just a friendly reminder for next time." He smirks.

"There's a next time?" She plays.

He smiles then. They're playing, but somewhere in the back he knows she can pick out the truth in his words.

"Truth be told...I was waiting on your _actual_ present." She tells him, pushing to a stand. He immediately lacks at having her so close to him.

She's unbelievable. And unnecessary in the best possible way.

He makes a face then. "Donna. I told you. I don't need a gift."

"I know...but." She pauses, her lip twisting with a shyness. "I found something. And I thought that you should have it." She tells him, walking over to her bags, that he notices are perched on his breakfast stools.

He frowns, waiting, little until she pulls out a record and an unmarked cd.

"Wait. I have every record Dad ever featured on?" He frowns, confused.

"Kind of." She tells him, an importance in her face. "Your Dad didn't sit in for this one in the end." She tells him, handing him the vinyl. He reads the cover, a band he had heard of briefly but only had one album of.

"I found out that he was booked to play on this record but he had to cancel..." She explains.

"Why? What happened?" He asks her then, flipping the record in his hands as she slides down next to him.

"You were being born." She says simply.

His eyes flicker to hers, observing the unusual smile on her face.

She blinks, disconnecting from his gaze to continue. "Now, despite not being on the record in the end, because he was attending your birth, of course,"

"A smart man," He adds, a warm glow of a smile flooding through his body.

She nods, handing him the cd. "This, is enhanced footage of the rehearsal process. Your Dad is barely in his mid twenties...and might I add, an already _very_ handsome man."

"Your attraction to my father is never **_not_** going to gross me out." He tells her.

"Let's not pretend it was only one sided," She says cockily, as an erant hand runs through the side of his hair.

He's in shock at her gift, which is only minorly abated by the complete sense of satisfaction. He stares down at them both in his hands as a wave of feeling overcomes him.

He quickly places the vinyl and cd on the coffee table near them, his hands automatically sliding into her hair as his lips open against hers.

 _The kiss is awash with silent thank yous that would make his fragile heart break in a second if he dared to utter them to her._

He smiles against her mouth, her confused face disconnecting from his as she finds his eyes.

"So I gather you like it?" She asks him.

He merely nods. A simple understanding between the two of them.

"I want the rest of my present now." He tells her gently as he encourages her to lean back.

"But you don't know what it is?" She says, smirking at his sudden insistence.

"It's okay. I get the gist." He assures her.

"Well, as long as I get _more_ than a gist." She jokes, before doing as is told.

"I can give you _**a tip**_ if you like," He offers, smiling against her neck as he presses her against the length of the couch.

"Just the tip?" She enquires, waiting for him to react.

He pauses then, his head titling to give her a look that borders on the kind an old librarian gives a noisy little school child.

He leans back before kissing her plainly on the lips just enough to silence her, as his free hand slides around her back, twisting to undo the two clasps there before visiting a third.

"Really...you couldn't have just worn a normal bra?" He enquiries with a huff.

"Don't pretend you don't love a good three-point challenge." She tells him, leaning back a little further against the soft slightly suede fabric as she shrugs off her bra, letting it slide down her left arm and drop down next to the couch.

"Is this what married life with you is going to be like?" He asks casually.

It knocks them both for six. He has no idea why he's even said it. He frowns for a second before the guile in him stands by the statement.

"Harvey," She breathes, her face mixing with several contradictory emotions.

He focuses on the sad note in her voice. It wreaks of everything he fears the most.

"We made an agreement. Remember?" He shrugs. "Donna?" He questions, observing her face.

"Yes. One I'm still not entirely sure that you're even ready for." She tells him flippantly, stiffening.

It's the wrong thing to say, she realises, as she watches him sit up and shake his head loosely at her comment. She immediately feels the disconnect, bringing her elbows behind herself to prop herself up, wanting suddenly to be closer to him despite the sudden silent embarrassment at painting the air a less than savoury colour.

"Maybe it's you who's not ready?" He says finally.

It hurts.

 _Because maybe it's true._

She sits up then, grabbing a pillow between them to cover herself, her lack of clothing suddenly making her feel vulnerable in this emotionally ambiguous moment. If you searched the nuances of her gesture, you'd see the anxiety there at being this exposed in front of him.

 _The Donna in the dream was comfortable. Bathed in inevitability. Calm in their two person situation._

The real one is still flying between the fence posts.

"Maybe I don't need to be...because we agreed. When you want to retire. _Then_..."

"How am I supposed to believe that, Donna, after nearly thirteen god damn years, that if you'll change your mind five years from now?"

"Harvey...I don't want to fight with you on your birthday," She tells him, her voice quiet.

"This isn't a fight. This is you, avoiding the question. Yet again."

"You know that I love you," She tells him, her shoulders bending against the fact.

"But?" He asks, watching her nose crinkle with a defense.

"What?" She blinks, not catching onto his train of thought.

"There's a 'but'. What is it?" He fires at her.

"Harvey, I..." She stumbles on the words.

"Donna. What is it?"

"I..."

He shakes his head, moving off the couch.

It's a strange picture. Them both angry and nearly naked.

She rolls her eyes, as they begin to flood, watching him retreat to the liquor cabinet, pouring out a glass of his usual with a heaviness she herself has caused.

He realises that she's picked up his shirt along the way, because he can see that it's hanging around her shoulders with a button done up by the time he looks back at her. Her hand slides around the half empty glass in his hand.

He swallows with a frown, letting her take it from him. He's surprised when she lifts the glass to her lips to finish it off, The amber liquid disappearing in a swell before she places the glass back down next the clean ones, her face contorting at the acrid taste.

He takes another moment before looking at her. He feels like she's seeped into his being and taken every corner for herself. It aggravates him. There are small similarities between her and his Mother. The unimportant ones, granted, but they exist all the same.

"You want the truth?" She asks him.

He turns to her, his eyes still guarded but finally agreeing to meet his. He nods silently.

"I'm scared." She tells him.

"Of me?" He asks reluctantly.

"Of this not being capable of...withstanding something like marriage. I'm…" She pauses, shrugging defensively as she looks out into the patchy blackness of the open skyline. "You're not the only one with issues, Harvey." She answers, wrapping her hands around herself.

"Meaning?" He answers darkly.

"What if marriage...just isn't us? What if...we were not even meant to be together like that?" She offers.

His face falls then. He can't believe it's still an issue. "You don't trust me."

"It's not that," She rushes. "I just..."

"Just say it, Donna."

"Im scared that you'll regret it...and like twelve years ago, you'll make a decision that...breaks my heart all over again."

 _ **And that was it.**_

 _The Other Time._

The pinnacle of all their issues.

"You think I'll go back on it." He guesses.

She frowns then, seeming apologetic. "You've grown so much in the last two years, Harvey, but...maybe you're not husband material."

"How do you know you're wife material, huh?" He asks then. There is a softness in his voice that cracks his own defence.

She gives him a look then.

 _They both know the answer to that._

"I don't understand why we're even fighting about something that won't happen for at least another-" She pauses mid-sentence, the realisation hitting her words like a solid steel wall. " **Oh**."

She can see the words as he thinks them, in unabashed blinding gold letters.

For the first time in their relationship she realises that maybe there's a possibility that he has always been in this place.

He just never knew it at the time.

And she was too scared to ever factor such a thing.

He has the same dream - at least the first and better half of it - at least once a week now. Sometimes it changes. Alters in the details. Sometimes he wakes up in bed with her and they just...stare one another. The same twisted smirk mirroring each others.

 _He'd be a liar if he said he wasn't ready._

He rolls his eyes as he watches a shy smile grow slowly on her face. "Oh come on, Donna it's not like we've only just met..."

"You're getting old and domestic...on your birthday." She notes.

"If you continue to mock me, I'll marry Rachel instead." He chides, watching her roll her eyes.

 _They're more than aware of his natural attraction to brunettes._

Truth is they're effortless for him.

But he's only ever fallen for one redhead in particular. And she's enough to counter twenty brunettes.

" _Will_ _you_ marry me?" He finds himself asking her.

Her eyes grow wide, dazzled almost by the sentence.

"Given our agreement, of course." He stumbles on his words, taking in her expression.

"When...exactly?" She asks him.

"I have a contact at the courthouse on speed dial," He adds with a tired smile.

"Oh my god," She giggles unnaturally. "You're a-actually serious, aren't you?" She stutters.

"Aren't I always?" He replies. "Unless you want a horrific and enormous wedding that'll take six months to prepare?"

"Hmm..." She plays, her finger sliding up to her face with a comical note. "Now one means that we can lie to everybody, including my mother, which means I have the upper hand...but the other let's me dress both myself _and_ others." She muses, before looking to him. "Harvey," She breathes, her face falling into seriousness.

"Nearly Thirteen god damn years, Donna." He warns carefully, his fingers twitching to touch her again. "I'm done."

"Okay...but what about work? This is an important condition, Harvey."

"So work part time and I'll steal Gretchen back from Louis for the rest." He answers simply.

"Harvey," She warns, giving him a look.

"You are **_not_** working for Louis again ." He tells her, before the thought is even brought to the fore. "Look, I pay your salary now, regardless what you do...I'll pay Gretchen for her time too. And who doesn't like to get paid for full time and work part time."

"Okay...let's shelve your inappropriate kindnesses for a second and focus on the fact that maybe I don't want to work part time?" She offers sternly. "Perhaps I...like, ne, love my job?" She tells him.

He is suddenly conscious of the inappropriate ideas flying around his head.

She notices the fraction of a second worth of hesitation in his face, hers tilting with a tiredness.

"Oh my god...you want me to have your baby don't you?" She accuses, a certain amount of disgust on her face.

"Well excuse me for wanting to have a family with the woman I want to marry. Most women would be flattered." He says, giving her an exasperated look.

"Most women _you know_ are dumb as shit." She tells him.

"I object." He huffs.

 _This is not how his birthday was supposed to go..._

And he realises then. That how he's feeling _must_ be right, because with the way they are going it's unrealistic to wait for something that's had a lid on it for nearly thirteen excruciating years.

"It's time we moved forward." He tells her. "So...as scared as I am to say this...on my birthday...are you in...or are you out? Because...I would rather lose you now, knowing you don't want to. Than lose you five years from now."

It's a bold move. It's almost calling her bluff. Except it isn't. He means it. And he's absolutely terrified.

He loves this woman and for the first time he is absolutely ready to take a very big leap with her.

Waiting is suddenly ridiculous because other woman...are worth nothing against her.

 _Paula Agaard would be so proud..._

He watches her eyes unfocus for a moment.

When she turns around, taking a few steps towards towards her bag, it dredges up a fear that he's been holding onto for most of his adult life. He closes his eyes, exhaling with the assured inevitably that his planned conscience always assumed on.

 ** _She doesn't want to_** -

Before he can process the entire thought she swings back around, her eyes defiant and concentrated on a singular thought, framed with just the right amount of undiluted fear.

"Ask me again." She tells him.

"What?" He squints.

" **Ask me again**." She repeats, harder this time.

He blinks, before the understanding forms, sliding onto one knee in his boxers.

It's not the most classic of proposals...he feels like an idiot, but what's new...

"Donna Roberta Paulsen. Will you marry me...within the year?" He asks. "May I also make you aware that this is a legally binding verbal contract, and open to punitive damages should you break it in the future."

She laughs then. _He is a dork_.

"Yes Harvey, I'll marry you." She says, a confused smile painted on her face.

He nods then, making to stand. She's suddenly dainty and shy and overtaken by his sincerity, as his fingers slide over her comfortable angles and curves.

"Tomorrow, I'll take you to Cartier." He tells her, kissing her plainly.

"Good..." She tells him, drawing a breath. "Because we're getting married in the afternoon." She swallows, blinking with a held tension in her posture.

"What?" His widen. "I thought you...wanted the big imposing wedding?" He asks her, suddenly on the spot.

"I do. Kind of. But the overwhelming wave of terror at being legally responsible for you for the foreseeable future, kind of trumps that."

"Donna," He frowns, suddenly worried that he's forcing the issue. _It's terribly forward-thinking of him._

"No. You're right." She says, trying to calm herself in his sturdy arms. "Why wait?" She wagers. "I'm...scared. Sure. But it's my fear."

"But...you're sure?" He checks.

"I do love you, Harvey. And no man has ever been able to compete with that. And sure...work will be hard...an adjustment...but something tells me you're going to put every effort in making your sperm _count_...so I better enjoy my employment while it lasts." She quips, her hands falling onto her hips.

"You know that if I could have the children...I'd still go to work, but...the sentiment would be there," He tells her.

"Oh, so you're not going to be my Seahorse?" She chides, giving him an unimpressed look.

"What?" He squints.

"What? Male Seahorses have the babies." She says, rolling her eyes. "You realise there are other things besides sports, right?"

"You realise that you're ridiculous, right?" He counters.

"Says the Managing Partner who just asked his Assistant of thirteen years to marry him...tomorrow?" She points out.

She's impossible.

He knew it already but now he's sure of it. He smirks, pulling her stubborn form against him.

"You know...if I had realised that this was what you actually wanted for your birthday, I wouldn't have worked so hard on your gift." She adds pointedly.

"What can I say," He placates, sliding her hair over her left shoulder. "I'm selfish when it comes to you."

"Don't I know it," She remarks, the echoes of his voice in her familiar tone.

He smiles, turning on his heel and yanking her along with him.

"Where are we going?" She asks him.

"To the bedroom. Unless you'd like to sleep on the couch?" He turns back to offer with a smile.

"No." She sighs making step to keep up with him. "The bed sounds...adequate, I suppose." She breathes, holding in a suggestive note as their fingers lace together.

He pauses, turning back to her when they reach the open doors. "I'll get the bed replaced. Hows that?" He offers dryly.

She smiles then, fully, as his hands slides under the crinkled shirt she wears. "Oh, you know your audience," She purrs, waiting for him to rid her of the fabric.

* * *

Say you won't leave me no more  
I'll take you back again  
No more excuses no, no  
'Cos I've heard them all before  
A hundred times or more

I'll forgive and forget  
If you say you'll never go  
'Cos its true what they say  
It's better the devil you know

Our love wasn't perfect I know  
I think I know the score  
If you say you love me, oh boy  
I can't ask for more  
I'll come if you should call

I'll be here every day  
Waiting for your love to show  
Yes it's true what they say  
It's better the devil you know

\- Abbey Road Sessions 'Better the Devil you know' By Kylie Minogue

* * *

 _Thought I would leave it there, and sort this as a two-parter._

 _I really want the writers to give Donna and Harvey an Arrangement, if they have her back as his assistant._

 _That's the only way that I think they can please both camps of ship and non-ship at this point._

As always, please feed the kitty!

 ** _A~_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Notes:**_

Huge Thankyou to everyone who reviewed this! Here's the Second Part. The series has got my writing in a SERIOUS funk atm, trying to find inspiration that is the Myre of Darvey Post-Season 5.A. Blame Korsch and ship inconsistencies. On the plus side, rewatched the new series with my cuz who was behind and they loved it! A~

ALSO: I'm aware that Donna isn't Donna so much. I've been thinking that the only way they can move forward is if she changes her behaviour in relation to Harvey. She's very careful not overstep her bounds and this restricts their growth. Snarky Donna probably won't be as snarky once Harvey nails her down… _Just food for thought_.

Let me know if this needs Beta-ing and I'll fix tomorrow. It's only had a read-through. **_x A x_**

* * *

 _Dedicated to all the shippers out there who feel that occasionally futile sense of despair at their SHIP not being correctly SHIPPED.. x_

* * *

 **The Arrangement - Part Two**

* * *

This isn't sometimes

yeah, its for always

if I'm gonna love you with all of my heart

and if there is no more time,

this always remains.

even as the world spins itself apart...

cuz i remember them days i waited so patiently

for god to bring someone who's gonna be good to me

and then he blessed my soul

well, i traveled a long way

and it took a long time to find you...

but i finally found you…

i remember all them lonely days

i traveled out on my own

then you brought me everything

ya made my house a home

if its not the real deal then i don't know it

cuz it show does feel, and i think it sho does show

i remember all them days i waited so patiently

until god brought someone who's gonna be good to me

and he blessed my soul...

But, I traveled a long way

And it took a long time...

to find you...but, _I **did** find you_...

and he blessed my soul...

 _Alabama Shakes 'I Found You'_

* * *

His eyes open in a snap, disconnecting from a dream he must have been having moments before; one with changing faces and poignant words that don't make the kind of sense that he needs them to at this early hour.

His gaze moves from a blur of burnt orange into a half focus. A smirk grows with an eagerness on his face in the examining of vivid curls and the groove of a hunched form that disappears underneath the comforter. He blinks against the lopsided smile that appears on his face as he takes in the view of her porcelain and tan-freckled back. For a moment he's between decisions of whether to wake her or not, settling instead on the rare moment of silence from a usually ballsy woman.

For the record, this is _nothing_ like _that_ dream.

There is a finality to her being here in _his_ bed. _With him_. It's a first. A first in what he now realises is twelve very long years.

He's not smirking awkwardly. There is no awkwardness. If anything he's grinning like a Cheshire cat, his eyebrows twitching like a tail.

There is also another first. In this scenario, he's still in his own bed. The other women of his past would have woken up to the sight of him, fully dressed and waiting for them to take pause of his fast paced life and finding him lacking there.

Even with Scottie, his longest romantic relationship to date, he often woke up to _her_ leaving. To her being dressed and teasing _him_ out of bed. Their relationship had been a constant fight. A duel between two lovers where he was always struggling to come out on top.

Today, he'd give it all up. He would surrender. The fighting. The moving. The fast lane. He'd give up every bit of his day just to keep himself suspended in this one fragile moment.

He's quit before. She's been fired. She even left him. And her not being there was always filled with a cavernous emptiness.

So, he's staying exactly where he is for as long as _she_ does.

He's sort of ridiculous. And he knows that now. Acknowledges it whole-heartedly.

He stirs, stretching out his left shoulder as he feels her begin to wake beside him. His eyebrow raises when he hears her sigh, but she doesn't appear to move. He can't see her face, and the fact makes him unnecessarily anxious.

For a second he's wondering if it's all been a mistake. If she's just realised some awful error in being here, _in his bed_.

She turns slowly, just enough to peer at him over her shoulder with a deliberate coyness.

The way she looks at him like this has all the makings to ruin him. Fluffy haired and dewy faced. He smirks in defence as she examines him.

"Morning...Harvey." Her voice plays, a softness of colour in it.

"Morning, Donna," He sighs, a twist of a smirk forming as he watches her from his side of the bed.

There is the faintest sense of a stand-off between them. Playfully electric and heightening the crisp morning air.

He'd never admit it, but he is out of his depth now. He's unsure, again, anxious, that she could have somehow changed her mind between last night and the morning. As if it didn't matter what _connection_ they had, or that _the sex was **that** great_ \- and god, he was learning all sorts of interesting things about her - that come morning she would think it had all been a frivolous attempt to get her into bed again, for old time's sake and call bullshit on the entire situation.

 _She wouldn't have been far off, though_. Difference was, though...he intended to keep her this time.

She turns then, and he can't help but notice the gentle roll of the comforter and the slow slide of his silk sheet across her breasts as she turns to face him fully.

Her hair is untamed and bigger than she wears it these days, and he's wondering just how long it's going to be before his hand is running lavishly through it again.

She arches an eyebrow, that suggestive look about her and those hazel eyes challenging him for a reason that she's probably deciding right then and there.

"What'cha doing all the way over there?" He finds himself offering.

It is utterly agonising, holding back. To _not_ rush to her. But he gets it now _._ Every move they make is a statement to the other. Nothing can be rushed with them now.

Their world is a little game that he has already won. All he has to do is remember the fact.

They have _all_ the time in the world.

She scoffs, chuckling to herself then. "I could say the same to you." She counters, giving him look that would challenge his own arrogance.

He realises then.

 _She's waiting for_ _ **him**_ _to make the move._

 _He drives her crazy._ But at least he's getting used to being the one to initiate things with her now.

After the second time, the now pinnacle moment for them that finally changed them for good, he understands that _he_ _ **can**_ _have it all_. He just has to tell her. To show her. _To ask_. It's not going to kill him to let her in because she's the only one who has ever been able to hold his heart without breaking it anyway, so why not keep her hands warm and his head clear from all of his past demons.

He sighs, giving her a deliberately tired look as he stretches across the white linen sheets, his fingers sliding up and over her hip bone as he uses her to pull himself to her side of the bed.

Their noses bump together in a way that causes him to grin lazily at her, the flood of arousal at her contrasting temperature and soft skin; at feeling the near invisible hairs on her body slide against his in a way that strikes at the very core of his attraction to her. He notices her freckles peek through the make-up she put on yesterday, slightly smudged by their strange evening. And she smells like fresh water, mixed in with the blissful night before. His hand slides against her waist, pulling them flush together. She follows his lead, gracefully moving a leg over his body; his hand contacting her outer thigh as he pulls her slowly to rest on top of him.

She giggles a little, like a teenager in the throes of a new and wild romance, as her hair drips around his head in fluffy waves. She bends to capture his lips against her own; sucking his tongue into her mouth enough to elicit a deep groan that vibrates right through his bones and back into her like the complete joining of a circuit. His hips instinctively raise to keep them close and his need becomes rather prominent against her.

"We have a very busy day ahead," She reminds him, sitting up then as he bucks slightly against her.

"We do," He drawls with a lazy smile, as he leans towards her again, sitting up as much as he can, his back rising off the pillow as she raises onto her knees to allow him the adjustment. He's a fan of being on the bed, but the inherent need to touch every bit of her is overwhelming still, his hands pressing along her ribcage and encouraging her hips forward. "First stop…Breakfast." He adds, feeling that sharp hit of electricity as he pushes inside of her. He watches her pout, and suppress a lengthy moan.

"Of course," She pouts. "Then what?" She commands, rocking ever so slowly slowly against him.

"Then... _Harry Winston_." He groans.

" _Oh god yes_ ," She says, her breath, an exaltation mixed with raw intent and the distinct acknowledgement of his hands brushing deliberately past her pubic bone. "Then what?" She shoots back, her eyes finding his for a fraction of a second.

"Then...you need a...dress." He sighs, leaning forward to suck against her collarbone, the mere threat of marking her dancing between his lips and teeth and tongue.

"Good idea. What kind?" She asks, her fingernails pressing into his shoulders.

He almost blinks at her asking. She's always known everything. And now she's asking him and it makes him feel like a king.

"Something...Dior-esque." He says, letting the words dance on her tongue.

"Hmm...go on." She hums, kissing him.

"And backless." He mumbles against her shoulder then, getting into the swing of this decision making.

"Oh. You _are_ good at this," She smirks against his lips.

He pauses for a second, amused by her choice of words. He arches an eyebrow, waiting for her eyes to fully focus on his face. "I'm _amazing_ at this," He points out, pressing her against him only to thrust finally into her, just to make a point. Her breasts lift with a reactive breath against his action, her eyebrows denting at the ripe need that it encourages.

"Point made," She breathes, lost in the effort. " _Pun intended_ ," She adds then, moving forward to hungrily capture his lips in hers once again.

* * *

It's safe to say, that it takes a while for them to make it out of his apartment.

They settle at _Sarabeth's_ \- not too far a walk from his Condo - some Upper East Side breakfast joint at it's best; with things like Crab's Eggs Benedict and Rib Hash with Sunny Side eggs.

It's only after they sit down, on either side of a little round, white linen covered table in a busy restaurant, that he realises.

 _Maybe they are both insane._

"We're not going to get everything done today." He tells her.

"Well, of course we're not if you try to hold me hostage in bed all day," She counters, smiling behind the large white coffee cup in her hands.

He smirks at the remembrance.

 _That had been his plan all morning._

"Wait," She frowns in thought, placing her Mochaccino back on its saucer. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"Of course not," He answers immediately. "I'm just…wondering if perhaps we set the bar a little high." He admits.

He notices her face fall for a moment, the ideas starting to form in her head.

"What exactly are you saying, Harvey?" She asks, sighing.

It dawns on him that she's still not trusting that he meant what he'd said last night.

"I...I'm just... _worried_ that we're not going to fit it all in in time. That's all." He shrugs.

She gives him a look that he can't decipher, and notices how it warms into a knowing smile. "Look. We have three things on that list. All of which are crucial: Rings. _My Dress_. And the Courthouse."

"Right." He nods.

"I'm fantastically easy to buy for. And we're both practical. It'll be effortless, Harvey." She reasons, shrugging.

He's stuck then, between his unwavering trust in this woman, and that little trickle of doubt that fleets across her face.

 _She's a little rattled._

And it's not her best look, he notes.

* * *

It turns out ... she is right.

She _ **is**_ easy to buy for.

Except...for _today_.

He lingers outside the dressing room.

"Hey, you need some help in there?" He calls to her, his hand brushing against his chin as a vibrant image of her in some sort of disarray strikes up in his mind. "You know, I'm great with zips." He offers with a smirk, looking towards the curtain.

Before the joke has even had time to settle, the curtain pulls back abruptly to reveal her seemingly unchanged, and the pile of dresses that she went in with are folded neatly over her left arm.

"Let me guess? No takers?" He offers, holding off his disappointment on the matter.

She gives him a look.

 _Trust her to hold all the cards._

"They're all perfect, actually." She sighs, stalking past him.

But there is something about her demeanour that suggests she's not found ' _ **The One**_ '.

"I have a better idea." She says then, confusing him.

"What?" He frowns.

"Don't you worry about that." She remarks, sliding her hand through and under his arm. "Where to next..." She asks herself, before the idea forms. "Rings?" She offers.

"Rings it is." He says, leading her out.

* * *

He loves watching her face, he notes to himself.

And the moment she so much as steps over the threshold of Harry Winston, she's already excited.

He has a feeling that this will be _a winner._

* * *

He's wrong.

" _ **I'm sorry Ms Paulsen...but Cherie is not in today."**_

The words ring in their ears like an ugly discord.

As Harvey looks to his fiancé, somehow Donna is oddly unperturbed. "I don't care if she's in or _not_ …" Donna chimes. "I need a ring, and I need it _now_. And she owes me an unconditional favour. So," She says, planting the words with icy intent. "Pick up that phone and... _call_ her." She demands.

"I don't have her number…" The attendant frowns, slowly folding her arms.

"Fine." She says, plucking her cellphone from her purse. " _I_ have her number. Use my phone...here." She offers bluntly, shoving the phone towards the attendant.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to...speak to my Manager first." The woman backs off, eyeing Donna with an obscurity before wandering off in the direction of the seemingly secret, fabric covered door.

Today is not going as planned. _At all._

She steals a breath, looking to Harvey as her face reads a flash of withdrawn anxiety.

"You okay there?" He asks, his tone softening.

She huffs, looking away from him and back to the door. "I'm fine." She says, the pressure held in her voice. "I might slap that woman in a second for being spineless, but otherwise...I'm fine." She divulges.

He can't help but laugh.

Any other man would be absolutely terrified and running for the hills. But he's seen it all before. She places the same kind of force in attaining things for herself as she does for him and absolutely anything that he has ever needed or asked for.

He's always been in awe of it, and always appreciates her technique.

 _ **The soft stick, hard stick, soft stick approach...**_

He slides his right hand around her left one as it lingers next to his side and watches as the tension begins to drain out of her like an egg timer as their fingers intertwine.

"It'll work out." He encourages softly, nodding as her hazel eyes soften in reply.

"It better." She remarks dryly, her rather haughty posture relaxing somewhat despite the acrid colours still in her voice

When the woman returns, looking subservient and hanging on heels of a spindly looking older man, Harvey wagers that Donna has quite a battle ahead of her.

And that it has all the makings of excellent viewing pleasure.

" _Ms Paulsen_...I'm Carlton Lang, the _Manager_ of Harvey Winston." The man says, clearing his throat of the cobwebs from supposed under-use.

"Yes? And?" She observes.

Harvey struggles not to hold in a laugh at that.

"I understand you have arrived today _without_ an appointment?" He ascertains with a calm sharpness that no one in the room is missing.

"Look," Donna says, her hand sliding out of Harvey's so that she can slide it forward and onto the glass counter. "I have a _very_ busy day ahead, and I know what I want. I know what you have, and I've been saving for a Harry Winston ring since my twelfth birthday. One of _your_ **top** assistants, _Cherie_ , owes me an enormous, Harry Winston framed favour and I am... _here to collect_." She says, looking about the place. "Or...I can persuade John Flaherty...you know...the famous commentator and former sportsman, that perhaps he wants to get a _Cartier_ ring for his fiancée June, instead of your Winston Blossom Diamond with Pearl inlay."

He watches her eyebrow twitch in a full stop just to make her point.

His focus flies back to the older, skinny and slightly uptight man in front of them...his face slowly blanching with understanding.

"When do you need the ring for?" The man asks, somewhat tensely.

"Today." Donna answers with a pronounced sigh.

"Engagement or...Bridal?" He asks, his face cracking with interest.

"Both." Her eyes flash back at the man.

"Ms Paulsen," He says, skipping a laugh into the execution of her name. "I'm terribly sorry, but regardless of favours and...your...sturdy _approach_...even if we sized you up right now, unless you wanted to take something off of the rack _today_ ," He says, making a face. "Then, you already know that it will take several days to finish a ring for you, let alone Mr Specter as well. And I'm sure neither of you, given your regard for substance and style would want to leave the doors of Harry Winston with anything other than _perfection_."

That's the stab.

Right there.

 _The truth._

Harvey holds the need to wince as he watches the pressure drain out of her face.

It's a hit.

The guy is...right. And he can see it in every inch of her.

Donna _knows_ the guy has won.

He actually feels the fight fall out of her in a huff.

And he doesn't like it one bit.

She straightens then, lifting her purse off of the glass cabinet. " **This isn't over**." She points out. "And that favour...is _still_ on the table." She reminds them both sternly, watching as their smug expressions turn to overly alert nods, as she flicks her hair over one shoulder, gliding out of the shop in several leggy steps.

* * *

When he catches her outside it's a different matter.

She's flat.

She's tired.

 _This is not going to plan…_

"Donna. Look...maybe it's a little fast. If you want all of these things, then...we can take the time, you know that, right?" He offers, his hand sliding against her arm.

"I should have known that this couldn't be accomplished in a day." She reasons, swaying on the side walk as she observes the bustling city moving around them both.

"Donna," He calls to her, striding towards her as his hands root her to the spot. "Look...do. you. _want_ a **big** wedding?" He asks her firmly.

She sighs, looking away from him. "I honestly...don't know." She shrugs.

"Well, We have two choices, here." He reasons. " _ **One**_...we take the time, plan it all, and have everything you want _how you wanted it_. **Or**...we get married in whatever works, today, and have a great party or a holiday, or both... _after._ " He offers. "Now, I don't care which you decide, as long as _marrying me_...is the final outcome." He finishes with the slight squeeze of her arms.

"Okay," She sighs heavily, her lip twisting and all at once at odds with the two options in front of her.

He waits patiently, his hands sliding up and down her arms as she takes a moment.

He watches her eyes close, drawing all the attention in this pinnacle moment.

For a second he wonders if she's actually going to come to any decision, until she opens her eyes, adjusting to his proximity as he towers slightly above her. She smiles for a second, her hands sliding against either side of his jaw. He smirks at the coolness of her hands, the darkness in his eyes softening at having her so close.

"So?" He encourages.

"I think I want to be married to you by the end of today." She smiles slowly. "Regardless...of rings and dresses and other things." She says, whipping in a breath to solidify her decision.

"Good." He smiles. "Come on," He encourages, taking her hand. In seconds she's planted to the spot and he's pulling at a deadweight. When he turns back to her there is a look of confusion on her face. "What?"

She reserves a smile, drawing him nearer to her. His head tilts as an incredulous look flits about his features. Before the doubt as to the reason for her pause can barely settle, she leans forward to brush her lips against his.

He still hasn't quite gotten used to that feeling, yet. That little tingle that explodes between them; her lips, powdery soft, that start a little dryer until her tongue slides against his, all at once sugaring his taste buds and stirring up a three-point plan. He pulls back, grabbing her hand and pulling her along with him.

"Where are we going?" She calls to him, a slight skip in her ankles as she follows close behind. "Harvey?" She calls his name, her head jutting out as she follows his body through the uneven New York footfall.

He looks back to her with a knowing smile. "You'll see." he says, before tugging at her hand.

* * *

He makes her walk for ten minutes straight, right through Fifth Avenue and all the way to the other end of the shopping district. Which for them - _on a normal workday_ and amongst heavy streets of New York tourists - is virtually unheard of. Of course, Donna is used to walking the city. They both are. But she certainly not used to i in heels, and certainly he's not used to pulling a near six foot woman along in them either.

She notices the sign a mile off. They've ended up at 49 West 45th Street.

The observes the ' _Leigh Jay Nacht Inc_.' with a Diamond as it's Logo.

She blinks, looking to him for a moment as he stares back, on the apex of her opinion.

" _I mentioned this place once_." She says under her breath. "How did you…" Her voice trails off in disbelief.

"I'm Harvey Specter. I _know_." He tells her.

She chuckles then at him mimicking her, but her recovery is quick to cover the true sense of awe.

"So, you _do_ listen?" She enquires cockily.

He gives her a look then. "Donna, I learnt a long time ago, that everything you say means _something_. Maybe not at the time but...at some point." He says, leading her in. "With you it's smart to remember." He assures her.

She's shocked then. Honestly, shocked, as if she'd hedged her bets that he'd just scored lucky this one time.

In truth, she found this place years ago, a boutique specialising in vintage rings. And they are _not_ cheap.

If anything, this place makes Harry Winston look like a discount store.

And even more odd, this place has a rather expansive range of prices to choose from. They don't discriminate, and she liked the idea of that. That you could find a ring for $1500 or $50,000, depending on what you wanted. And every single one was different. They specialised in Art Deco from the 1910s to the 1940s.

Chic.

Elegant.

One of a kind.

This place was her secret Mecca for Engagements.

And he...Harvey Specter had somehow remembered the one time she had mentioned it.

The place is fairly busy, as he follows her into the shop. His hand slides naturally against her back as they notice an attendant become available. She sidles up to the counter, a frisson of nervousness in her chest as she smiles at the woman standing behind it.

"Good Morning and welcome to Leigh Jay Nacht. I'm Marsha; what can I do for you?" The youngish woman greets warmly.

"Hi there Marsha. I'm Donna and this is Harvey. We're looking for...in a word... _a god given miracle._ "

The woman laughs in a peel of warm colours, as Donna continues.

"We are getting...married... **today**. And as strange and foolish as that sounds,"

"You've been engaged forever?" The woman offers.

Donna smirks, looking to Harvey. "In manner of speaking." She answers, taken aback by the young woman's denomination.

"If it's any consolation you look like you've been together for a very long time indeed." She notes with a secret smile.

Donna looks to Harvey, and he to her.

The woman is spot on. In a twisted kind of way they've been engaged for well over a decade.

"So...because of the rather inappropriate deadline on a rather overdue situation, I need an engagement ring and a wedding ring, today, in my size." She says. "Now, at the _very least_ , I'll take the most beautiful ring you have in my size or near enough, to trump both."

"Okay…" The young woman nods. "And can I assume that you need a Groom wedding band also?" Marsha asks, her pale green glass-covered eyes flicking to Harvey.

"Yeah," Harvey chimes in. "Let her pick it." He says, his head indicating his fiancée. "She knows what she's doing." He smirks confidently.

"I don't doubt it," The younger woman smiles encouragingly.

He figures at this point, with Donna having picked out his office decor, his apartment and his home decor to match that, that she knows exactly what she's doing. His needs are an effortless concept for her. And there was something to be said for having a woman who arranged your world with a compliment, rather than a restriction. He's not dumb to the fact that he often falls on his ass when she's not around. On his own he's competent, sure, and a great Lawyer to boot. But she makes his world go round in a way that he only of learnt the hard way. When she up and left him, taking all of those talents with her.

If he's sure of one thing in his later years. It's that Donna Paulsen is meant to be a kept woman. Kept in any way she decides, but held onto. Firmly.

"Okay. So what kind of style are you thinking of?" The woman asks.

"I'm a 6." Donna chimes in. "How about you choose what you think looks great in what you have size-wise and we'll go from there?" She offers shrewdly.

"Good choice." The woman smiles, sliding away from them to the other side of the counter.

She sighs then, looking back to Harvey, who squeezes her waist. "Hey...you okay?" He asks her.

She nods. "After this, you're buying me a cocktail." She tells him, her eyes wide with importance as she nods in double confirmation. " **A big one.** " She swallows.

"If we pull this off today, I'll buy you a bar." He counters.

"Aww," She pouts, making fun of him as her hand grabs the front of his face with a playfulness. "You're so cute when you throw your money around unnecessarily." She croons deliberately.

"If you want, we can _pretend_ that I'm joking." He offers cooly, his head tilting and swatting her maroon tinged talons away with a lighting quick reflex, before he presses his hand into her waist, rubbing against the bottom of her ribcage.

She laughs to herself, observing the fine dark hairs beginning to show on his chin-line.

"You know it's always been your money too, right?" He offers, his eyes pearly all of a sudden.

She swallows, overtaken for a moment by his slight smoulder. "Had I realised sooner, I'd have bought myself a time-share in the Hamptons _long_ ago." She remarks, her mouth popping.

"Don't say things you don't mean." He fakes with a disturbed frown.

"Fine." She replies staunchly. "Cabo?" She throws in as a better offer.

He smiles broadly. Her ridiculousness is infectious. "Better," He compliments, smoothing her back.

"Okay," The younger woman calls, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. "Now...I have some good news...and some bad news."

"Okay." Donna nods. "Open with bad news."

"There's only one ring in your size, I'm afraid. We've been cleaned out of viable options." The woman replies, her eyes wide.

"Right. And?" Donna encourages.

"And... _more_ bad news...it's forty thousand dollars." The woman says with a wince.

Donna sighs. "Okay…" She says, straightening to digest the information.

"Money's not a problem," Harvey interjects swiftly, swallowing Donna's reply as soon as it reaches the air.

Her head whips around then, blinking over wider eyes than he's ever seem from her. "Harvey," She admonishes.

"Shall we just have a look at the ring first?" He offers calmly, ignoring her reservations.

For a moment they stare each other down, the challenge in his onyx eyes winning marginally over the now muted caution in her hazel ones.

She takes a puff of a breath in; all at once taken aback by the predicament. "Show me the ring." She demands.

The woman nods, a secret smile on her lips as she lifts the display tray; one solitary solitaire placed in the middle of it.

" ** _The good news is_** , it's one of our best pieces. And I don't often option this, but...I think it would look great on you." The womans voice drifts into the background.

Donna blinks.

Twice.

It's a work of art.

" _This is a Platinum, Edwardian Engagement Ring with a European cut and filigree design. Now...it is an engagement Ring, but...I have a feeling that it would be perfect for today. Now...we could find you something to go with it, but" the saleswoman pauses, sliding the ring onto Donna's finger._

"I'll take it." Donna finds herself saying. Her eyes look to Harvey, and then to the ring. She hasn't taken a breath in seconds.

 _ **It's beautiful.**_ An almost patchwork design of a cross stitch style flower in slate grey square cut diamonds, matching out in grayscale tones to clearer more traditional diamonds, all set on one very intricately woven platinum ring.

It speaks of the Titanic, of the drama and the turn of the Twentieth Century.

And yet, there is something so... _Harvey_ , about it. _Painfully Classic_. _Effortless. Filled with Greys._

And yet the filigree is so **her**. _Dainty. Imposing. Seemingly Regal._

She blinks, skipping looks between the ring, the woman watching her and to Harvey smirking rather meaningfully back at her.

 _She doesn't even need to discuss it with him._

She looks back to the server, a direct confidence about her then. "You get commission, right?" She enquires.

The woman smiles shrewdly.

* * *

It takes them another hour to pick out Harvey's ring; a charcoal tungsten inlaid platinum ring. Simple, and modern with a matching palette to her bold yet delicate design. It was a little bigger than he needed, by one and a half sizes. But he promised to hand it back to Donna right after the ceremony with her promise to hand it back into the jewellers in time to be resized the very next day.

They also decided that in one year's time...if it all worked out - _an agreement based on realistic terms for two people working in the law_ \- then, he would buy her a more traditional wedding band to commemorate the occasion. In her head, it made the kind of sense that an Engagement to Wedding band never did. _What was the point in having a ring that then got stored before you were even married?_ It made a hell of a lot more sense to wear the engagement ring into your marriage. It had more meaning, rather than the idea of putting down an initial deposit on a woman with a diamond.

She'd had many of those in the past. Many frivolous and some meaningful.

But this ring...this one in particular had more than enough meaning to trump all of others.

It was a ring fit for a moment, and the many possible moments after that.

* * *

 _Face to face_  
 _One to one_  
 _Two hearts race_  
 _All is lost and won_

 _Air to air_  
 _Light to light_  
 _All laid bare_  
 _Senses taking flight_

 _It all begins_  
 _When stars align_  
 _And two paths meet_  
 _To re-define_  
 _We fall in love_

 _' **WE FALL IN LOVE'** BY Lamb_

* * *

Donna wasn't kidding about _the bar_.

And Harvey had another great idea. It seemed that he was full of them today.

When they ended up outside a small Restaurant in the garment district she was immediately confused.

"Is this…?" She blinks, a memory forming from fragments in her mind.

"Yeah. This used to be _the bar_. You remember?" He asks her.

" _First time we met_?" She offers, looking to the sign now reading 'El Toro'. "Of course." She confirms.

"Shall we go see if the layout is still the same?" He asks.

"Do we _really_ want to eat Mexican before we get married?" She frowns, the idea of being sat on a toilet not being the best wedding day activity that springs to mind.

"Oh I don't know," He counters as his hand snakes around her waist. "Some Nachos...a couple of Margaritas." He encourages with a smirk. "You _love_ Margaritas."

"I **do** _love_ Margaritas…" She smirks, allowing him to take her hand. "Then, lead the way, Sir." She smiles.

* * *

Their booth is still there, oddly.

She sits in her original space, smirking as the memory of their first meeting catches up with her.

He suddenly has this flash of ginger bangs and this whimsy of what used to be her optimistic seeming voice.

"This used to be our old haunt," He introduces.

"Yeah. End of each case. All the Assistant DAs…wow...we were...much _younger_ back then." She concludes.

"You haven't changed a bit. Minus the bangs." He notes, with a twitch of interest.

"You've changed a... _hell_ of a lot." She smirks.

"That's hurtful." He tells her, feigning a wounded expression.

She chuckles to herself, playing about with her fork. " _If I remember_...you propositioned me from the very moment I sat down in this very seat."

"You were beautiful. I was forward."

"I guess you were." She replies, observing him as a buzz of electricity hums between them.

"I could still be.. _.forward,_ you know." He encourages, sliding around the bench to sit a little closer to her.

"Uh huh. Nice try," She says, noticing a young waiter approach from the end of the bar. "But you're getting married, now."

"Does that mean I can't hit on you now?" He frowns oddly.

"I don't know." She says, letting the question revolve in her mind. After a moment she smiles, catlike. "Let's find out."

He smiles back, readying himself. "Hey Gorgeous, _how's it going_? You like the kind of woman I would go down on." He says with a twitch of his eyebrow.

She laughs then, a pealing laughter that ripples out into the moderately quiet restaurant, as it alerts the many bored waiters and waitresses.

"What?" He jokes. " _Too strong_?" He frowns, entertained by her way as she stifles her outburst.

"Please don't tell me that's a line. I've watched you pick up…" She huffs, "Over a _hundred_ women before. You've never once used that."

"Am I losing my touch?" He asks, indulging her.

"Let's just say It's a good thing that you're getting _married,_ now **.** " She offers, patting his hand.

"Why?" He asks, his eyebrows denting.

"Because you are... _way_ off your game, Specter." She leans forward, letting the words settle as his face bends at the well laid challenge.

"Yesterday...I got you to agree to _marry me_. We weren't dating, and we'd barely slept together...if that's not game, then I don't know what the hell is." He states with gussy about him.

"Maybe it's been _my_ plan _all along_." She offers, causing his face to peak with a held interest.

"Hi, I'm Kurt. Can I order you some drinks?" A voice interrupts them.

"I'd like a round of ' _Burn_...' for my friend here." She smirks looking up at the dark haired waiter.

"You're a beautiful idiot," Harvey infers, looking to his counterpart, before regarding the Waiter. "And we would like a Margarita, on the rocks, and a double Macallan, neat. Thank You." He offers, watching as the Waiter nods, before sliding away with a dubious look on his face. He leans in, looking to her. "So...where were we?" He offers with a grin.

"You were...losing your game and _this_ one?" She offers, smirking across the table.

"Okay." He nods. "I know what you're doing." He divulges, sitting a little straighter as his hands slide into his lap.

"Winning?" She offers, with a vibrant look of victory on her face.

He shakes his head, indulging her again as he readies his retort, leaning in so that he's arched over the corner of the table as his hand disappears underneath it. "You know...I could just... _slide my hand_...like _this_ ," He offers, watching the confidence drain from her face. "And then work my way up your left leg...and It. Would. _Ruin you_." He tells her.

He knows he has her when her cheeks blanch.

" _ **Get your hand away from my crotch before I mount it**_." She says firmly, swallowing.

"You're so...coarse." He chokes with humour, withholding his smirk in favour of giving her a scolding look.

"What can I say. This has been a...very _weird_ day." She admits.

She's not wrong. If he'd have known that the day would unfold like this, he'd have envisioned staying in bed, and lavishing his impulses on her until the evening drew back in again.

But they had laid so much on the table now that it was beginning to bring out these strangely electric and uncharted moments between them. Like two kids in their twenties suddenly wrapped in a juvenile and highly charged relationship.

And he was glad that it wasn't just him. He had wanted to press her up against a flat surface for over half a day now. If they hadn't been in the car with Ray on the way here, he would have been working on her second orgasm before they had even made it to the first destination.

"One Margarita on the rocks," The Waiter introduces, looking to Harvey as he points to Donna. "And one double Macallan neat." He supposes, placing the familiar drink in front of Harvey. "Would you both like to order now?"

"Nachos. Two. Thanks." Harvey answers, a sideways look to Donna, whose eyebrows bob in regard of his accurate choice.

"Coming right up." The Waiter says, sliding away from the table.

"Is this _married life_? You... _ordering_ for me?" She enquires, her left eyebrow spiking upward with interest.

"Don't pretend it's _not_ what you want." He throws at her with a heavy look. "If you're going to comment on every time I take an educated guess, then it's going to be a very _looonnng_ marriage."

"You hope," She tells him, something overly challenging in her eyes.

"I don't need hope," He says, picking up his Macallan to slide it along his lips. "I got you." He remarks, the slide of saccharin in his tone before he takes another sip. He waits till her eyes roll before his voice becomes more laced honesty. "And _I know_ that when you want something, you don't change your mind."

"Are we talking Nachos or something else?" She offers with a knowing smile.

He rolls his eyes. Now she is being the incorrigible one.

"I've got to admit," She says then, as he notes a seriousness and something overly quiet about her tone. She lifts her head, coming to terms with the words forming in her head. "You _do actually_ know me. Really know me. Whether you've realised gradually, or….you always have, deep down, you just...do. And...that is...difficult...for me. To get used to."

"You mean...difficult that you're not five steps ahead every time?"

"Of you?" She offers, a strangely honest look on her usually confident face. "Yes. It's an adjustment." She admits. "And not because you...take charge. But because you...know. You know me and you're not afraid to act on what you know. Nobody's ever been…."

" _Bold_ enough?"

"I guess." She smiles. "At least enough to occasionally take control of the situation."

"What can I say. I feel like you needed it today." He shrugs.

She swallows. "Have I been that obvious?" She remarks, a hint of anxiety covered humour in there. "And all these years I thought _I_ was taking care of _you_." She says, swallowing the words in perfectly cooled tequila.

"Donna." He says with weight to the word. "That is what I've always valued about you. And what I took for granted for a long time. You make my world... ** _better_**...without me having to say or do anything. And I think...we're equal now, with regards to that." He says, shrugging with an awkwardness.

Even in moments like this he's still growing. She forgets that sometimes. He's learning, still. Finding out things.

"Yeah." She smirks. "I guess, it's a good that thing you asked me to... _marry_ you." She says, laying the bait with another signature smile.

"Well...Jessica Chastain was otherwise engaged, so," He throws at her flippantly.

"Whoa. What a second. Let's not pretend you a have a thing for redheads now." She accuses. "I am a _strict_ anomaly." She states, her eyes wide as she sips her Margarita.

"Maybe, I...didn't want to hurt your feelings….by having another redhead around?" He plays.

"In the thirteen years that I have known you...you've _never_... **ever**...dated or slept with or so much as glanced at another redhead."

She measures his gaze for a moment, the ambiguity there causing an interest to spread throughout her face. Her eyebrows raise, an entertained look growing then.

"Just...once." He relinquishes. " _One night_. And I never told you about it because it felt...dirty."

She smiles….alight with the electricity of information. "Bullshit."

"She was five ten, hair like Susan Sarandon in _Thelma and Louise_ and she actually _purred._ "

He knew he'd won when her voice pinched. " **How** dirty?" She enquires, straightening.

"Dirty enough for me to _keep_ it from you." He says.

She straightens at the waist in one fluid movement, only to bend a little further over the table. "I want her name, her profession and where she lived, _Right the hell now_." She demands with vigour.

He smirks then. _He has her. He totally has her._ "Don't get upset." He sings.

She huffs, the challenge in her eyes. " _Kittridge, you've never seen me very upset_ ," She tells him, folding her arms and concentrating a gaze on the wait staff.

"Zero Body count." He warns, the strain of a smirk underneath his poker face.

Her eyes shoot to his in a rather comical fashion. "We'll see." She counters, before finishing her Margarita.

"Well played." He compliments with a smile.

 _He loves this woman._

 _Even without the Mission Impossible quotes._

Jessica Chastain has nothing on Donna Paulsen.

* * *

Donna was glad that the Margarita's had finally taken the edge off, as she taps her foot into Harvey's lush cream carpet.

They had a time scheduled at New York City Hall. In approximately one hour.

And right now, he was putting on a suit. What would now...be a very important one. Ordinarily she would help, and did at first, until their chemistry firmly broke all concentration and she was kindly escorted out of the walk-in and planted onto the lounge couch with a large whiskey to add to her almost empty alcohol drenched stomach.

This was the...strangest of days.

Days like this, finally sleeping with a guy you liked, or had feelings for. They usually started with breakfast and the promise of Dinner that night. Or seeing each other again in a few days and the tentative little moments in between that.

 _Days like this_ , of being engaged to a guy, usually superseded a lengthy relationship, possibly after a trial 'moving in' period, but definitely after attending at least a few public functions as an established couple.

 _Days like this_ , getting engaged to your significant other, usually followed into a full day of sex. She assumed.

But their relationship was like no other, and if she had thought about it clearly enough, then why should she assume that their engagement and wedding day would be anything other than **extra-ordinary**.

"Hey," She hears him say as he saunters out in a crisp grey suit with white and silver shirt and tie detail. "I thought…" He pauses, looking himself over. "I know it's not a tuxedo, but...it feels right to get married in my best three piece." He offers, observing her then.

She slides the glass onto the coffee table, standing to observe the charcoal lines and pale shirt.

Then the tie. Perfect knotted.

Silver is Harvey's _happy_ colour. That and cobalt blue.

A white shirt denotes nothing going on in the periphery of his subconscious.

It soothes her to see him so calm and concentrated.

His back straightens, the inevitable weight of her decision resting on his own. She closes the distance between them then, her hands sliding into the lapels of his jacket as his eyes darken to focus on hers.

"It think we're...ready to get married." She smiles, her hand sliding over his shoulder.

"But what about your dress?" He asks her. "Not that I don't appreciate you in flannel and jeans, but," He hums against her.

"Oh, you'll see." She tells him, a smirk of hidden information.

* * *

The traffic is its usual city wide afternoon gridlock. Luckily they are not too far from their destination and left in plenty of time to get there on time.

When the car door opens for her, the sound of the city floods into the car; her hand is taken t once by a familiar one to lead her up the stairs. She pauses, much to Harvey's confusion, as she gazes along the length of the staircase.

City Hall.

 **This was it.** Their final destination.

"You okay?" He asks her, squeezing her hand.

 _Panic stations._

"Mhm-hm." She nods curtly before allowing him to lead her up to the entrance.

* * *

It turns out, that marrying a man who has strong connections at City Hall and every other Law-abiding department in the city, means that you don't have to wait in the queue like everybody else. She didn't have to intervene once.

The day is starting to ease out, she thinks, and _the perks of being associated with the Great Harvey Specter are finally starting to show themselves_.

Any other Tom Dick or Harry would also have had to apply for a marriage license and then wait that cursory 24 hours before being able to finalise it with their vows.

But, such were the provisions of Lawyers with a certain _ **weight**_ to their persuasion.

It was only then, that it became swiftly apparent to Donna, that Harvey Specter, her Husband-to-be, was _all over_ this operation.

And being the last appointment of the day made it actually seem...rather effortless, if anything.

She left Harvey when they had finally located the correct chapel, and agreed to meet back there in half an hour.

"You better come back." He tells her, his hands sliding through her wavy hair.

"What? You think I'm going to up and leave you?" She offers with a scoff.

"There's a first time for everything." He offers, his cheekbones sharpening to the fact.

"Don't you mean a second time?" She plays, smirking evilly against his hand as it cups her cheekbone protectively.

"You're not filling me with confidence, Donna." He sings, despite the hardening pressure in his face.

"Harvey," She says then, her hands clamping down on his shoulders as her face draws nearer to his. "I haven't been able to leave you for nearly _thirteen_ years. And I'm almost Ninety-two percent sure that that's not ever going to change." She says, kissing him on the cheek before drawing out of his arms.

"You have thirty minutes." He calls after her.

"I only need twenty five." She plays, winking to him as she wanders in the direction of the bathroom.

* * *

 _Plenty of time to get ready_ , she thinks to herself, as she makes her way to the long bench of sinks and mirrors.

Plenty of time, _If she had the dress_ , that is.

She texts the magic number again, with the words: _Battle Stations_ and nothing else.

In not more that ten minutes, perfectly timed against finishing her hair, the package is delivered to her by an unnamed attendant, who swiftly exits thereafter.

This is the easy part, she thinks to herself, as she looks in the mirror.

The Hard part...is only just beginning.

* * *

20 minutes later she stands, examining a pair of rather stately doors.

There is a lot of... Maple and Oak, she thinks, as she looks about herself and the near barren hallway. It's a weird thing to think of at a time like this, when she should be making her way through the doors.

She draws a long breath.

In all honesty, she wasn't sure what her actual wedding would have entailed, had there been a more traditional one.

 _Sure_ , the dress and the look. Obviously.

But _the venue? The music? The Guest list?_

They weren't traditional people. The Plaza would seem wholly unnatural for them.

And _...The Groom?_

For all that she loved Harvey, _and she did_ , never once had she thought about them being married.

With a child. _Sure._ Why not. He had sperm, after all.

 _Living together_...kind of. Okay. She could understand that, _perhaps._

But actually getting married? To each other?

It had honestly never once crossed her mind.

Being with him had always meant...just _being with him_.

It was oddly school girl of her. But then, they were like that in some ways. Besides, until yesterday she assumed that Harvey would have dismissed marriage after the outcome of his mother and father's.

Turns out, he wants to correct what they had gotten wrong and apply it to his own life.

She takes a breath, and plants one more brave step towards the inevitability.

Today, she is marrying the man she loves.

Because **_he_** wants to.

However terrifying an idea it may be.

* * *

She emerges through the doors, spotting him leant against a row of oak seats.

He stands immediately, taking her in in one slow steal of a breath.

If she didn't know him any better she'd think he'd turned to stone. He always did have that look about him.

She smiles to herself. She knows exactly what she looks like.

Hair pinned to the side. Simple. _Elegant_. Seemingly effortless.

Her dress - hand-delivered by that special number less than twenty minutes before. Chiffon, peach and strapless. A little known dress designer with a flare for silvery grey thread detail and an understated-ness.

To anyone on the street they would think that they were going to a gala, or perhaps a night at the Opera.

She feels like a secret agent, as she swans down the aisle, watching his face twitch with a cat-like interest as his hands slide out of his pockets. She meets him halfway, smiling at his charcoal suit; her eyes zoning in on the faint pale pink of his pinstripe jacket.

"Donna," He offers.

"Harvey," She replies, an expectant tone in her voice.

"Shall we?" He offers, gesturing for her to take his arm.

She smiles widely at his sense of formality, as her fingers slide across his material covered arm, their shoulders bumping together as he leads her down the aisle.

 _It's better this way_ , she realises. No need for Fathers who were never there, or special ones who had long since been lost to them.

No need for Harvey to have to endure his Mother's awkward insistence in being involved or her sister's silent queries as to why she would marry a man whom she'd only slept with on three separate occasions and yet had been emotionally tied to for over a decade.

It was just... _them_.

Admittedly, the idea of Mike and Rachel being there would have been...a welcome addition.

But _they_ would be enough. Just two people.

"You look beautiful, by the way." He whispers into her hair.

"I know," She remarks, before her mouth falls into a smile. He gives her a look, a reminder to examine him where she notices his hair slightly uneven on one side. She reaches to smooth the offending strands.

This action is different now. He doesn't fuss and then flinch like he used to and she doesn't have to fight the feeling that it encourages in favour of being professional. Now he's smiling at her, entertained with his attention of her.

Suddenly his phone beeps in his pocket, causing them to pause as he fishes out his phone. She frowns, an alien annoyance building up in her that surprises her somewhat. She watches him, as he rolls his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself.

"What is it?" She asks him, eyeing the Minister waiting quietly at the other end of the small chapel.

"Our witnesses _are_ -" He starts, before the doors crash open with a reverberating clatter.

"Here! Sorry," Says Mike's voice, rushing towards them. He is suit clad, in blue with a silver tie and Rachel's hand clamped in his as she glues herself to his side in a turquoise dress and an ear stretching grin plastered onto her pretty face.

Donna sighs, a quiet laugh falling out, before she composes herself as they reach the couple.

"You're late, Michael." She says confidently, before her sternness softens as she turns her face, waiting.

"Too late?" He questions, planting a kiss naturally above her cheekbone.

"You're right on time," Harvey interjects. "Hey Rach," he smiles.

"Hi. Harvey." She smiles reservedly back at him.

It occurs to all of them that their relationship is the one most steeped in work regulation. They've never so much as shared a drink in all the time that they've worked at the firm. Donna decides there and then to change that. Rachel is no longer the friend, holding the secrets that attach him to Donna and Mike.

They are now one unit.

Rachel grabs Donna, pulling her aside for a moment.

"You look _so_ beautiful." Rachel compliments, giving her friend the once over.

"Good enough?" _To marry my ex-Boss,_ she thinks to herself.

" _More_ than good enough," Rachel confirms, before a thought strikes her. "I forgot," She says half to herself, grabbing the purse that's hanging from her shoulder. Donna watches as her friend pulls out a medium sized black box, which opens to reveal a beautiful necklace, in a similar design to her ring, with grey diamonds spreading to topaz and then to sapphire.

It looks old, and blue.

And something tells her that it's about to be borrowed, _too_.

"I picked it up from Christie's," Rachel adds, as she undoes the clasp for her friend. "And after Harvey sent me a picture of your ring. I figure the two could work together nicely." She reasons, as the necklace lays delicately onto her skin.

She's in shock. Multi-level shock until Harvey's hand slides back into hers with ease.

"You ready?" He nudges her, looking to the two women as Mike nears them.

She looks to Mike and Rachel, both holding hands and smiling back at them.

"I am." Donna smiles at him finally, before they walk to the overly patient Minister.

Mike grasps Harvey's shoulder for a moment.

"You had a bathroom break?" Mike quips, watching as his friend's face drops like a stone.

"Really? This is my _wedding_. Enough with the prostate jokes." Harvey remarks gruffly.

"Look, Donna'll be pissed if you have to break the ceremony because you're _desperate_." He reminds him, earning a laugh from the women, as Harvey steers her towards the direction of the Minister with a worn in glare.

"I'm just looking out for everyone involved!" Mike calls behind them.

"Mike," Rachel placates him, her hand sliding into his as they follow the couple.

* * *

"Good, _almost_ Evening." The Minister starts. "We are gathered here today, to witness the marriage of one _Harvey Reginald Specter_ ,"

Mike's eyes bore into Harvey's at that. He's never ever going to live that middle name down and he hates his Mother even more for forcing it upon him.

"And one _Donna Roberta Paulsen_. Now," The Minister pauses, looking to both Rachel and Mike. "If there is anybody present, who knows of a reason why these two shall _not_ be married, speak now…" He pauses, looking to the four as they ponder over circle. "Or forever hold your peace."

There is silence. And smiles. _Some of them, secret._

Only thirteen years of emotional anguish could truly silence a room. However empty it may be.

"Do you have the rings?" The Minister asks, looking between Harvey and Mike.

Harvey nods, sliding his hand into his pocket.

Her eyes find his in a flash.

This is it. The precipice, she thinks.

But suddenly it doesn't look so bad from up here.

* * *

From then on, the late afternoon turns into the daydream of an evening.

All she can feel is his hand, with skin slightly moist against her own, guiding her as they walk out of City Hall, their friends in tow, the clouds looking powdery against a slate and tangerine sky above, suddenly so much darker than when she had graced the steps an hour or so earlier.

She senses this overwhelming wave of calm settle in her bones with a heavy tiredness. Like there had been an invisible cloud over her head that she'd never really acknowledged before. One that could have been there for years, following just her. She's not really sure any more. Mostly because it doesn't really matter. She has never let herself be objectified by the man she works for. She wouldn't let him take both sides of her back then. But now she wants to...to give over everything of herself to him because he does deserve her. And more than that really. He always has, he just... _never fought this hard before_.

Her eyes flicker to the man next to her, his sideburns shining with a greyish tinge of age as his jaw sets, observing the road for the familiar sight of his car. It occurs to her that during their exit, Rachel and Mike have disappeared as soon as they arrived. And usually, she'd be digging into _that_ mystery like Harriet the Spy, but something tells her that Harvey is still in full control of this entire event. As he catches her looking at him, his face turns with a reserved smirk as his hand squeezes hers once.

"What's going on in there?" He asks her.

"Nothing." She says, a smile sharing between them.

He chuckles to himself, spotting the car before looking back at her knowingly. "Well...that's a first." He notes, earning a groan laden eye-roll to ripple out of his new Wife.

"Oh, so now you're _married_ , you think you know everything, huh?" She plays.

"I know enough. I'm not like... _ **you**_ , but." He smiles then, the jibe settling out of his face. "I know enough." He replies meaningfully.

She shakes off the sentiment, instead letting her eyes settle on the sky again as dusk draws in quicker with the passing seconds.

She's not sure if it's the sunset. Or the vibrancy of such a thing against the darkening sky. Or just how the light plays with his features, giving him that worn in smoulder.

Either way, she is completely in love with this man.

 _This man whom she belongs to with an equally returned sentiment._

She wonders if the feeling will ever settle below a bubbling frisson.

"Hey…Mrs Specter," He hears her call.

The words knock her out of her private head-space, her eyes immediately rolling at the fact. "Oh my god…you've been dying to use that all day, haven't you?"

"I have." He nods, his head tilting towards the Lexus now parked up in front of them. "We better go." He encourages.

"What? Why?" She frowns.

It dawns on her that they never discussed their day further than the actual wedding.

"You'll understand." He promises, opening the car door for her.

She bows, sliding along the back seat. Her eyes collide with the dark meaningful ones of Ray Benghazi, their driver, as he glances in the rear view mirror.

"Mr and Mrs Specter." He greets with a wry smile.

"Don't use that too often Ray," Donna warns good-naturedly. "Or Harvey'll start to think he's the King."

"Uh-huh-huh." Harvey interjects, a likeable resemblance of The King himself.

She suppresses a smile. "Scratch that, Ray." She sighs. "The damage has already been done." She remarks with a comically disappointed tone.

"Ray." Harvey chimes in, a natural authority to him. "You know where to go." He indicates with a meaningful nod.

"Right away, Sir." Ray smiles, flicking on the indicator.

* * *

Her stomach is in knots for the entire ride. Even with his hand still firmly in hers.

"Harvey, just tell me what's going on..." Donna demands, as he escorts her through the doors of another unnamed restaurant now in the Flower District.

She stops dead when a crowd of people erupt into an applause at their poignant entrance.

Her heart leaps in her throat at the sight in front of her.

How he had managed this she didn't fully understand. She surmises that it mostly has to do with him texting and calling like a wild man whilst she had been in the bathroom at various points today. It's the only deduction that springs to mind.

She turns to her husband, witnessing his very self-satisfied smirk.

"You did this?" She asks, watching the various people laugh and smile at her.

"It's not like it was hard?" He throws at her. "I just...called Mike, mostly." He shrugs.

"Harvey," She sighs, turning to her husband. Of course Mike and Rachel would have something to do with this.

"What?" He asks.

"I love you." She smirks secretly.

"Good." He says, giving her a look. "Because it took five bathroom calls to bring it all together."

"Yours or mine?"

"Both," He smirks, leading her out into the packed restaurant. "Concentrate," He encourages, turning her back to the crowd.

Her sister is there.

Her mother. _She's really not sure how Harvey got her to agree to come, but there she is._

Her old-time friend Julie is there too, with her husband Daniel.

Louis is also there, Holding back the tears for a number of reasons.

 _And Mike and Rachel, of course. Having found their way here ahead of them, she gathers._

Even Jessica _and_ a Date, it seems.

Marcus, _apparently_ , is on his way with the kids. Wife presumably and tiredly in toe.

Everybody that she needs is there. And smiling. And not judging her or Harvey for their spur of the moment gear change from first right into fifth.

Her eyes linger on his form as people jump in one after the other, greeting him like they have all been part of the huge plan.

Truth is...that they probably have been.

Albeit a very...impromptu plan.

It's only when he looks back at her, a lopsided grin of interest coming off of his face that she realises that she is staring at him.

"Hey again," It's only Rachel's voice that pulls her out of her immense daydream.

"You little sneak." She accuses.

"He's done a good job, hasn't he?" Rachel chuckles, her eyes painting a depth of meaning between them. " _Mrs Specter,_ "

"Why is everyone so interested in calling me that?" Donna blinks at her friend.

"Because you're the…" Mike chimes in, before resisting the last word.

"I'm **_the 'what'_** , Mike?" She counters, eyeing her younger friend.

" **The Mom** ," Mike remarks with a shrug, unperturbed.

"Oh my god..." She muses. "You're right. **I am**. _How did I_..." She trails off, a resounding look of shock on her face, as Harvey slides up against his bride. She huffs, slapping him in the chest.

"Oww. What the hell was that for?" He barks, frowning sharply at her.

"Why did you not tell me I was _**the Mother**_?" She bites at him with wide eyes.

There's something comical to be seen in this scenario.

"I'm the Dad." He shrugs defensively. "I thought you knew…" He replies, giving her a look as his hand settles around her waist to give it a quick squeeze.

"I thought Jessica was the Mom." She sighs disappointedly, watching her husband and friend-children smile supportively at her. "I always thought I was the…"

" _Mistress_?" Harvey offers, gaining another pointed glare.

"Funny." She groans as her eyes travel to notice her Mother with an apparent staunchness to her.

So...her Mom _is_ pissed.

She groans under her breath. "If you'll excuse me, I have a…" She gestures vaguely, before stealing a breath.

She's surprised to feel Harvey next to her. "Harvey," She frowns, pausing. "You don't have to come with. I can handle this." She tells him.

"Donna. I caused it. Probably from the very beginning. It's the least I can do." He says.

He's so amiable in one smoulder of a man. Her eyes squint, as if she's trying to see through him. Part of her wants to do it alone, but something in his eyes gives her a strange sense of emotional trust. She looks down as their hands intertwine once again.

Her Mother would have moaned about not having the time to pick out a proper outfit. Or being included in the ceremony. Or just for _not_ knowing about the development in their relationship as a whole.

Instead, P.W - post-wedding - she stands quietly next to her sister, Katy, her arms folded with a stubborn refusal an an emotional brick wall.

"Ms and Miss Paulsen, thank you for coming," Harvey greets, gaining their immediate attention.

"Well," Her mother snorts somewhat. "I wasn't about to miss my oldest daughter's impromptu wedding, was I?" She replies with a steely slide in her rather delicate voice.

" _I was_." Her sister adds, earning an arduous look from the three other people.

Donna...it should be known. Is **_nothing_ ** like her Mother.

She is not small, nor rounded, nor lighter haired as her Mother and Sister are. Donna is also _obviously_ redhead, and the only one in her entire family. She is taller and more slender - perhaps like her father used to be - and with a social difference about her, unlike her relatives. A clown. A word-smith. A Drama Queen to boot.

" _Mom, please don't star_ -" Before Donna can continue, Harvey interrupts with a soothing tone.

"That's exactly what it was, Ms Paulsen. Can I...call you Alice?" He asks the woman.

"I suppose. Giving that you've now married my daughter." She says, regarding him with guarded and yet interested eyes.

"Alice, yesterday evening, I asked your daughter to marry me." He begins.

"But you weren't even dating?" Her mother squints.

"You're right. We weren't. We came to an agreement, a while back, that we would put our relationship on hold. _But_ …" He pauses, looking to Donna. "I couldn't wait any longer." He says, his eyes lingering on the redhead in question. "And yesterday, I asked her to marry me. And she decided that we should just... _bite the marital bullet_."

It's occurs to Donna, in watching her new husband, that this is probably what he's like in court. Well placed. Well mannered. Charming. Decisive.

Different to the office.

She seldom gets to see this side of him unless he's nailing a deal. Or when she herself was on trial, and that didn't exactly bring out the best in him.

She knows now, that not seeing it until now, doesn't make him any less of a man, but definitely _more_ of a mystery.

"But what about your wedding, Donna?" Alice counters, looking to her daughter. "The Plaza? All of those folders that you used to keep as a little girl?" Alice asks her daughter, a pained expression on her face. "You've always said you wanted that?"

"Mom," She says, the tone in her voice laying a weight that quiets the circle. "Given _our_ rocky history, I decided that to avoid talking myself out of it, I should just leap. Get married. And I'm sorry that you weren't there. Either of you," She adds, looking to her sister's reluctant face. "But you only know Harvey, _the guy I worked for_. You don't know the Harvey that I...fell in love with. The man who always abided by my rules. _My_ requests. _My_ suggestions. And let's face it...you didn't have a very high opinion of him before, so why would I need our relationship to be subjected to all of that when we were already making such a life altering decision?" She pauses for a moment. "So. now...you can get to know the Harvey that _I_ know." She offers, her hand sliding into his. "So...Mom...Katy. This is Harvey Specter. My husband. And pain in the ass." She adds with a smirk.

"That last bit." He says, regarding her directly. " _Totally ruined it_." He remarks, earning a cursory glare from his wife that merges into a gleam of challenge in her eyes.

He smirks to himself, before turning to her Mother. "Alice...can I introduce you to our friends?" He offers, swerving the woman over to Louis Litt before she can object.

Donna smirks knowingly, watching Harvey lead her mother into the fray.

 _Well, played Specter…_ she thinks to herself, before pulling her attention back to her sister.

"Hey Kit-Kat." Donna remarks boldly, holding out her arms.

"I'm _also_ not happy...on principle." Katy states through lemony bangs as she folds her arms staunchly. She still accepts a hug from her older sister, however awkward-seeming.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. It happened yesterday, and." Donna gestures.

"You've been _dick deep_ ever since?" Katy offers, a devilish glare.

"Do you _have_ to be so crass…?" Donna admonishes, frowning bluntly at her sister.

" _Am I wrong_?" Her sister counters with a sharp look.

Donna slumps slightly then, standing alongside her sister to regard the many guests mingling about the place. "No. You're not." She sighs in honest defeat. "You know, I'm actually impressed at how he got it all together in time." She muses, looking to Louis, Harvey and her Mother. Laughing. That's something she definitely never thought she'd see.

"Well, I did promise him that I'd get Mom here if he arranged it all, so." She shrugs, some secret balancing on her similar features. "Glad to see he's not a quitter." She adds, with a dull-ness.

"He called you too, didn't he?"

"You wanna know what he told me?" Katy baits her sister, watching as Donna's interest piques accordingly. "He said... _that he loved you completely and that you were taking a **huge** step and would  need us_."

"He's not wrong…" She agrees, swallowing the fact. "Wait...how did he get your number?" She asks then, before the obvious answer occurs.

"Rachel." They chime in unison. Donna smiles then. _Of course..._

 _This is starting to sound like the great heist. And she had already married James Bond._

 _Was it possible that she was Pussy Galore?_

"For what it's worth... he's still... _pretty_ hot...for an old guy." Katy adds, balancing the admittance with her trademarked surly demeanour.

"You're not exactly young anymore, Kat. And yes...he's is _very_ hot." She says, her eyes drifting to the sharpest man in the room.

"I can't believe you married your Boss," Katy remarks, stealing a glance towards her sister. "Hello Cliche." She plays.

"Me either." She says with a sigh. "I think I'm still in a viable amount of shock." She admits, letting the tension finally drain out of her.

"Okay...I'm hitting the bar." Katy says resoundly. "Two tequilas," She says deliberately.

"Katy. I'm not getting drunk at my own reception." Donna warns, watching her sister drift away from her.

"We'll see," Her sister smirks over her shoulder, making her way across the restaurant.

She stands for a second, happily observing the crowd, as they bustle about, bubbling in and out of conversation.

For a bunch of half-strangers, they seem to be making up their own party without anybody's help.

Mike has accosted Katy at the bar; an effervescent conversation developing despite Katy's usual social reluctance.

Meanwhile, Rachel has now joined her Mom and an ever demanding Louis, as Jessica and her date watch with a palpable interest.

 _And Harvey is…_

"Hey you. _Observing my handiwork_?"

She smiles at his distinctive voice as he slides against her, a hand reaching up to encourage the large auburn curls off of her shoulder to reveal a very long-missed dotting of tan freckles on her exposed neck. She looks to him as his left hand finally settles against the middle of her back.

"Perhaps I'm...wondering where my Margarita is?" She offers, laying the inevitable bait.

"Why do you think we're in a Spanish restaurant, dumb-ass?" He says bluntly, despite the charged look in his eyes.

"Margaritas don't come from Spain... _Dumb-ass_." She fires back at him with enjoyment.

"Pot-ay-to, Pot-ah-to." He remarks then, rolling his eyes at her growing defeat.

"So I suppose...after you've done all this...I can't go through with that annulment after all." She quips, savouring the moment.

 _Just to keep him on his toes, of course..._

"Do you _ **wanna**_ sign a pre-nup?" He warns colourfully.

"Harvey," She chides, slapping him once more against the firm panels of his chest.

"God, you're feisty today." He smirks, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Oh Harvey," She sighs lavishly. "You have absolutely _no idea_ what you're in for." She tells him, as she leans in to kiss him resolutely.

As a matter of fact, he knows exactly what he's in for.

 _The Long Haul,_

 _And all her colours._

* * *

Oh my god it feels like I've been writing a novel! Which it's not ;-) Now, on to LIFE… I hope to get three chapters at least out by Christmas. I could have made this longer, and longer and...you get the picture. A~


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